Soft Steps and Sharp Edges
by SilasWhitfield
Summary: An elven agent working for the Varden is tasked with breaking an assassin out of prison to help the cause. The assassin in question however, has other ideas about what to do with his freedom.
1. Chapter 1

(A/N: Just dug out Brisingr and read it for S's and G's. More to come, Rate and Review and all that poppycock.)

Arien paced in front of the desk, her impatience almost unbearable. An ornate hand mirror sat on the desk's oaken top, its surface reflecting the low wooden beams of the ceiling. After spending so much time cramped in Dras-Leona, having to hide her elven features with magic and bumping elbows with the foulest and most uncouth spies the Varden employed, every contact from the outside world was like a breath of fresh air. At last the mirror shimmered and showed her an image of a white tent, the insides crammed with maps and charts. A familiar face appeared in the field of view. Jörmundur had been her handler since day one. It had been a bit of a sore spot to be subordinate to a human, but she had consoled herself with the knowledge that it was all for a greater good.

"Can you hear me? Hello?"

Jörmundur spoke a little too loudly, as though he did not trust the enchantment to carry his words through.

"Yes, I can hear you just fine."

"Good. How are things on your end?"

Arien pursed her lips. What kind of question was that? Working with a spy ring was much more boring than it sounded.

"Wondrous as ever."

Jörmundur crossed his arms and ignored the sarcasm.

"Not for long it won't be. The invasion schedule is being revised, Feinster is set to fall in a months time, which means Nasuada needs every possible ally at her side. One of these is the Guild of Blades."

"The what?"

"The Guild of Blades. They're a smalltime group of thugs, skilled thugs, but thugs just the same, nowhere near as sophisticated as the name might suggest. The Guildmaster, Hernfast, is a very talented swordsman who is also an old friend of Deynor, the previous leader of the Varden. The guild is composed of out of work mercenaries, disillusioned soldiers, and the like. Hernfast takes in all kinds of unsavory characters and has them do mercenary work, guard duty, and, although he denies it publicly, assassinations. Normally the Varden wouldn't be seen anywhere near his ilk, but times are desperate. He has agreed to provide the Varden with a valuable source of skilled men behind enemy lines, the importance of which I need not emphasize."

"So what does this have to with me?"

"I am getting to that. He will side with he Varden only if we satisfy a number of conditions, namely, if the Varden deposes Galbatorix he would be allowed to continue his operation unfettered by the new government. His other requests were easy to satisfy, save one: His prize pupil has been imprisoned in Dras-Leona for murder, likely on an assassination mission. Your task is to free him. Once you have sent word he is safe you will join up with the main body of our forces in time for the assault on Feinster."

Arien raised a graceful eyebrow

"So you need me to spring an assassin from jail, am I correct?"

"Yes. His name is Jarvis, and we have no more information save that. Do you think you can handle that?"

"He will be free before sunrise tomorrow morning!"

The corners of Jörmundur's lips twitched in a supressed smile.

"I hope so, because he is scheduled to be executed in three days. Good luck."

And with that Jörmundur's image faded from the surface and Arien found herself staring at the angular face of an elf once more.

_Three days,_ she thought_, not much time, not much at all._

Her slender mouth curved in a private grin. _This is more like the kind of work I signed up for!_

***

A solitary rock bounced off of the iron bars that composed the cell door and landed next to Jarvis, who picked it up and threw it at the door once more. Amusement in the custody of the Empire was very limited to say the least. He had only been in jail for a total of seven days, not including the one where he was dragged out and convicted on the charge of murder. It had been a very short trial, nor more than an hour. He was hauled into the Imperial Garrison where the guard captain had heard the accusation ad sentenced him to death. It was a good thing they thought the killing was simply a burglary gone wrong, because assassins were customarily killed on the spot. Morning light was just beginning to shine through the barred window when a gruff voice barked down the stone hallway.

"Oi! Jarvis, get up you mangy rat, you have a visitor!"

Jarvis dropped the rock and stood upright at once, striding quickly over to the cell door. Peeking as far as he could he saw the corpulent jailer waddling down the corridor, a young woman in tow. They stopped in front of his cell.

"Make it quick." the Jailor grunted roughly.

The woman turned to him and produced a few coins.

"I'll give you these if you'll make the conversation a private one."

The jailor eyed the money for a moment, but greed won out and he snatched up the coins. Once he had rounded the corner, Jarvis spoke.

"Who in the blazes are you?"

"I do not have much time, so please do not interrupt me."

"Wait, I think I do know you, the barmaid at that little inn near the market! Look, I don't know why you're dragging it out like this, it was just one night and-"

Before Jarvis could utter another word the woman raised her hand

"_**Hljödhr**_"

Suddenly, Jarvis found himself unable to speak. The woman regarded him with a cold eye.

"You have good friends Jarvis, son of Hadley, otherwise I would not be here. Your master has not forgotten you, and he has volunteered your service to the Varden in exchange for your life."

Jarvis launched into a soundless protest, which only seemed to amuse her.

"You should be on bended knee thanking me, fresh air is much preferable to the gallows, last I looked. _**Letta**_"

Suddenly Jarvis's voice worked again. He rubbed his throat agitatedly, the experience had not been pleasant.

"And when did my own opinion factor into the matter?"

"You would prefer I leave you to your fate?"

"You won't do that."

"What makes you so certain?"

"Because you did not come here of your own accord, this is an assignment, you are not leaving here without me."

The woman regarded him for a moment.

"I will be at your window at moonrise. Be ready."

She turned to leave

"Wait. The jailor has all of my weapons and clothing, they are in his office on the second floor, and I am NOT leaving without them."

The woman rounded on him

"Why should I-"

"Because if you do not, I will tell him that you are an elf and a spy. You will hang before I do."

The elf bared her teeth at him

"You little rat! How dare you! I could-"

"Could what? Kill me? Too valuable mi'lady, can't do that, can't shut me up like you just did either, someone will notice between now and the gallows."

Furious, her next words were hissed through clenched teeth

"Fine, but if you threaten to betray me again, I WILL kill you, Varden be damned!

Jarvis grinned at her and blew a kiss, retreating back to the straw mattress in his cell.

"See you tonight dear."

Boiling with barely contained rage the elf stocked off down the hallway.

***

Jarvis paced his cell up and down, back and forth. He could hear the fitful, nightmare-disturbed sleep of the other inmates. Some cried out names or loved ones, others just moaned. It was a hellish cacophony and he was glad that this turn of events would rid him of it. But still, the audacity of Hernfast to trade him to the Varden like a sack of oats burned him. That old bag had promised him he would be beholden to no man, and yet not five years into their partnership and he betrayed him. The Varden and Galbatorix could fight until the sun sank below the horizon for the last time, and no one would be the better off for it. Kings and kingdoms came and went, flitting past like autumn leaves, each one as inconsequential as the next.

A soft patter of footsteps reached his ears, he heard it only because he was waiting for it. Slender hands traced across the bars of his window and they glowed faintly in the dark before splitting, cut clean through as if they were hot butter. Without waiting for a prompt, Jarvis grabbed the ledge of the high window and clambered through into the cool night air. The elf sat next to him, no longer clad in the dress he had seen yesterday. Regarding him scornfully she pushed a bundle of clothes at him and turned away to give him privacy while he changed. Unraveling the stack he found all of his items had been taken care of, albeit slightly dirty. He dressed, slipping the trousers on and pulling the light tunic over them. Finally he pulled his grey robe over his shoulders and fastened it about his neck. His blades lay in their sheaths on the ground and he strapped each one to his body with a sense of relief. To be armed was to be in control of ones fate. A short sword buckled around his waist, a long skinning knife went into a sheath across his chest and a set of throwing knives, small, slightly curved little points strapped into slots, went around the waist, the small handles pressing against the small of his back. He let the cloak flow over his body concealing the blades from view. He wore no armor to speak of, save for the leather bracers around his forearms which were coated with enough steel to catch a wayward blade. It was the part and parcel uniform of a killer, honed to the bare essentials by a career made in light footsteps and sharp edges. The elf turned and motioned to him.

"Let us be gone from here, they will notice your escape soon enough."

Jarvis followed her lead, climbing carefully down the side of the cell block wall. After several tense minutes of climbing, and once when he thought he would lose his grip on a windowsill, they dropped safely to the ground. The elf pulled a coil of rope from her shoulder and secured it to a wooden support, jutting out of the main battlements of the prison. Testing it once she nodded silently to him and they descended to the street. Once their feet hit the cobblestones, Jarvis turned and began walking away. The elf ran in front of him and blocked his path.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Wherever catches my fancy. I hear Gil'ead is nice this time of year."

The elf stared him down

"You are coming with me to the Varden, that was our agreement."

Jarvis laughed

"We had no such agreement."

Arien's face flushed

"After all I did for you? You would be dead without me!"

"True enough, and I thank you for your effort. Now that I am free however, I see no reason to die trying to oust a mad king from his throne. Leave sleeping dogs lie as the saying goes."

"Have you no sense of right and wrong? You call yourself a man? You are a coward!"

"Coward, maybe, but I am not going to die anytime soon, and that, little elf, is all that a man needs."

Jarvis attempted to step around the elf but she stepped in front of him again.

"If you will not come willingly, then I will force you."

Jarvis grinned

"Oh, I would love to see that."

Arien raised her hand and mouthed in incantation that should have set him to sleep. Instead of collapsing into a snoring heap like most others would have, Jarvis remained standing while Arien's strength began to drain. Jarvis laughed and raised his finger. On it was a small ring with a gem set into it.

"You think I didn't have wards to protect me from magical trickery?"

The elf drew back a fist and landed a staggering blow to his collarbone. Jarvis stumbled back and growled in anger.

"You little bi-"

He did not have time to finish the sentence however as the full weight of an outraged elf tackled him and threw him to the ground. There was a desperate struggle, Arien trying to subdue Jarvis, who unleashed a non stop stream of curses. Though she had the unnatural strength of the elves on her side Arien was young as her race went, and not trained in hand-to-hand combat, whereas Jarvis was a lean, lanky, weasel who grew up in the middle of a bar fight. Jarvis braced his back against the cobblestones and pushed with all his might. The elf came off of him and he just had time to roll over an onto his feet before she threw herself at him again, trying to land a knockout blow, all magic forgotten in her anger.

Jarvis blocked a punch on his bracer, which made the elf cringe, and step back, nursing a nasty bruise on her left knuckles. Jarvis turned and leaped onto a cart, pulling himself onto the roof while the elf was momentarily distracted by the pain of punching steel. Arien jumped after him, but he was quick, almost too quick. The pursuit raged silently over the roof tops of the neighbor hood, Jarvis always staying one desperate step ahead of the elf. Finally, Jarvis turned and attempted to throw a punch. The elf dogged around the blow and pulled out a dagger, stabbing it deep into the assassin's shoulder. Jarvis reeled backward, the blade stuck halfway into the muscle, blood staining his cloak. Arien pulled back her right fist and drove it with all her might into Jarvis's jaw. The blow threw him to his hands and knees. He rolled over on his back and started to pull the knife out, inch by inch. Arien shook her head. What drove this man? She reached down and pulled the dagger from his weakened fingers. Flipping it around deftly she smacked him smartly in the temple with the handle end. Jarvis went out like a snuffed candle. Quickly Arien knelt and put her hand over his wounded shoulder.

"_**Waíse**__** Heill**_"

The gash closed itself and stopped gushing blood. It was a deeper wound than she had expected, and the wave of exhaustion sapped the strength from her limbs and made her sit down on the roof next to the sleeping man. She composed herself and put a hand around Jarvis, hauling him upright and off of the rooftop. It was a long walk back to the safe house, especially carrying what she was. But she would make it, the Varden depended on her, and she would not let them down. Unwilling or not, Jarvis would help them.


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes, my attention span didn't allow me to do a proofread.)

Light flickered across Jarvis's closed eyelids. Slowly, he rose from where he had been lying on the floor. He was in a small room with a low roof, probably an inn somewhere. Gingerly he picked himself up, self consciously feeling his shoulder. The wound was gone. Silently he opened the door and crept into a larger room. There was a cot in the corner, a table in the center of the room with a mirror on it. It was midday, and he could hear the sounds of market drifting through the windowpanes. He was still fully dressed, his cloak wrinkled from where he had slept on it. He walked to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. Cursing, he went to the window, but it would not open. Frustrated, he pulled back a fist and smote the glass as hard as he could. His fingers stopped an inch from the pane, and no matter how he threw himself at it an invisible barrier stopped him cold. He drew back and went again to the door, crouching and inserting his hunting knife into the door jam. After a few moments it became obvious this was warded as well and he gave up. There was no other way out. At the sound of footsteps he retreated and drew his short sword, waiting behind the door, his back pressed flat against the wall.

There was a click and the door flew open, the elf striding through it. Jarvis turned as silently as he could and stabbed the blade towards her bare neck. As with the glass, the tip stopped inches before it made contact. The elf turned with surprise and then a smile, seeing the assassin desperately pushing against the blade, trying in vain to make it go forward.

"So you're awake."

Jarvis sheathed the blade and made for the open door. The elf called out to him.

"I wouldn't be going just yet."

He stopped and gritted his teeth.

"And why not."

"Because of this."

Jarvis turned and saw the elf shaking a small vial of green liquid, a wide smile gracing her angular features. Jarvis sighed.

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"Poison. Of a sort. It is a very rare extract from a spiky plant that grows high in the Beor Mountains. Without the antidote administered weekly you will die a very painful and protracted death. When we reach the Varden I will neutralize its effects, but not a moment before."

Jarvis's face contorted.

"You poisoned me?!"

"Yes I did, and we should get going, the guards are up in arms over the breakout, it will be a miracle if we get out safely."

The elf picked up a satchel that was lying next to the cot.

"I am going to change, and then we will make for the gate. My name is Arien by the way."

"Your name means little to me at this point" Jarvis hissed

***

Arien and Jarvis turned a corner and the imposing southern wall of Dras-Leona loomed before them, casting long shadows in the noon sun. The guards were leaning against the wall and talking, one of them made some kind of joke and raucous laughter filled the narrow street. As Jarvis and Arien approached there were some low murmurs and the talk died down. The pair halted in front of the gate as the guards resumed their positions, the red flame of Imperial soldiers emblazoned on their tunics. One of them stepped forward, holding a piece of paper in his hand.

"And you are?"

Arien paused, not knowing what to say. Guards didn't usually hold up travelers on their way out, it was in they were concerned about. Jarvis spoke quickly.

"I am Bradord, and this is my wife Melinda."

"What is your business leaving Dras Leona?"

"We are headed to see her sister in Bellatona."

The soldier regarded him for a second and then held up the slip of parchment. On it were two faces, one fierce bearded man, and the other a fair young man, likely not even twenty years of age.

"Have you seen either of these men?"

Jarvis stared closer at the sheet. Two names were emblazoned in block letters underneath each picture, and a reward. Roran and Eragon, wanted fugitives from justice, should not be under any circumstances approached, to be considered highly dangerous. The reward was an earldom for each man captured.

Jarvis shook his head. He had heard stories of the dragon rider and his cousin.

"No I have not."

The soldier nodded.

"Move along."

Once a safe distance outside the walls they both exhaled a deep breath. Jarvis gritted his teeth and Arien let out an excited laugh.

"I thought for sure we weren't going to make it, good thinking!"

Jarvis nodded in a non-committal way.

The dirt lead them down past Helgrind and into a small valley, the lights of a village gleaming in the distance. Arien pointed to a set of rocks jutting up from the earth a ways away from the town.

"We should make camp there."

***

Jarvis dropped the assorted branches he could find on the fire and sat down across from Arien. The silence was broken only by the crackle of the flames. The assassin wrapped himself tight in his cloak against the chill wind that blew softly over the plains. Arien was fiddling with a dagger, flipping it over one finger onto the next, perfectly balanced. She was curious about this human, he was unlike the others she knew, few though that number was. In fact it was only a year ago that she had left Du Weldenvarden to assist the resistance, much to the chagrin of her mother. Jarvis seemed, cold, detached, and though he was certainly not a saint, she could sense he was not just another gutter rat. It was not greed that motivated him. Without a word Jarvis turned away from the fire and lay down on the ground, pulling the folds if his cloak tighter around him. Arien lay awake for a while longer. Her excitement at finally being of some use to the Varden made sleep hard in coming. Eventually however, her eyelids drooped and she fell into a light slumber.

The next morning she woke with a start. The sun had already risen and she cursed Jarvis for not waking her. Jarvis however, was not to be found, as she soon realized. A little edge of panic gripped her. Where had he gotten to? Her answer revealed itself in a lone set of tracks leading down the hill and towards the village.

***

Jarvis stepped out of the shop, tucking the small pouch of pipeweed into his pocket. Arien had been sound asleep when he awoke, and hopefully he would be back before she did something stupid. He was walking along the main road out of town when a small pub caught his eye.

"What the hell, always time for a drink."

The place was full of farmers, having a drink before the hard days labor in the fields. Jarvis slid up to the counter and waved down the barman.

"A mead if you please."

The man nodded and filled a stone mug with a cold liquid from under the counter. Jarvis grinned and toasted the barman.

"To freedom!"

The man chuckled and walked away to service other customers. There was a tap on his shoulder, Jarvis turned and almost spit out his mead. Arien had donned a cap that hid her uniquely shaped ears, but she had apparently abandoned enchantments to hide her features.

"How did I know you would be here?"

"I was thirsty."

"You could have woken me."

Jarvis grinned

"You looked too comfortable, I couldn't bear to wake you."

"We need to leave."

"Let me finish my drink."

There was a wolf whistle next to them and a rather portly man stumbled up to Arien, obviously drunk.

"A fffine morhnin to yah, mihlady!"

Jarvis pushed the man away

"Go bother someone else."

The man stumbled a little but came back, red in the face.

"Whhats your malady?"

Before Jarvis could respond the man pushed him back. Hard. He toppled of his stool and into Arien knocking them both to the floor. Jarvis got to his feet and was about to say something but realized the whole pub had gone dead silent, and all eyes were fixed on Arien. Jarvis looked back and saw in horror that the fall had knocked her cap off, and her long pointed ears were showing for all to see. A wave of panic gripped him and he turned back to the drunkard, who opened his mouth and pointed.

"By gaw, shhes an el-!"

Jarvis grabbed the man by the throat and whipped out his shortsword, pressing it against the man's neck.

"Not another goddamn word!"

There was absolute stillness for a few seconds as all eyes fell on Jarvis, who kicked the stunned man away and held out a hand to Arien. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. Jarvis sheathed his sword and they both swept out, the elf quickly folding her ears under he cap. It would not be long before the tale reached the guards, and as soon as they were clear of the village proper they began to sprint, heading for the rocky hills in the distance, Lake Leona on their right and a long stretch of farmland to their left.

***

The sun was peeking just above the horizon, poised to disappear and plunge Alagaesia into darkness. Arien and Jarvis rested just behind the top off a steep hill. The landscape was desolate, populated by waist high scrub and the occasional wind bowed tree. After a brief rest they made off again, skirting the road as the sun sank beyond the rim of the world. There were scraggly hedges on either side of the road, descendents of some well manicured plant gone to seed. Suddenly Arien ducked. Jarvis looked down at her, puzzled, and she yanked him down next to her just in time. A two man horse patrol trotted around the corner, their approach had been muffled by the grass.

"Wait until they pass!" Arien hissed to Jarvis

The hoof beats grew nearer until they were not ten paces away, then they stopped. A mans voice startled them.

"It was right here, I swear I saw a man!"

The other horseman responded gruffly

"I'll wait here, you go take a look."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the one who saw it, that's why!"

Jarvis heard footsteps coming closer, poised to stumble over them at any second. Silently he pulled a throwing knife from his belt and crouched low. At the last second he sprang upright and tossed the dagger with thumb and forefinger. It missed the younger guard entirely, and flew past him, burying itself in the eye of a bearded horse soldier behind him. The older man slumped over into the dust, killed instantly. The younger soldier fumbled for his sword but Jarvis leapt over the bush and delivered a crushing blow to his temple with a bracer, knocking him out cold. Arien jumped up and Jarvis pointed.

"Get the dead one and the horses off of the road, and see if you can cover up the blood, there may be more of them out there."

The elf sprang into action, approaching the horse, speaking softly to them. Reins in hand, she threw the dead man over the back of one of the steeds and brushed dirt over the pool of blood that stained the side of the road with a foot. Jarvis grabbed the unconscious soldier by the back of his uniform and dragged him unceremoniously into the brush. The pair walked for a good distance until the hills obscured their view of the road. Jarvis dropped the soldier he was carrying and pulled the corpse off of the horses back, dragging it out further into the wilderness. When he returned he saw Arien bent over the unconscious horseman. He was young, no more than eighteen winters.

"Move."

Arien backed away as Jarvis grabbed the man roughly by the front of his shirt and leaned him against a tree. He ripped a piece of cloth off of the mans jerkin and tied his hands tight. Kneeling down in front of the sleeping man he pulled out his hunting knife an slapped the soldier across the face with his free hand. Blearily, the man returned to consciousness. Arien watched apprehensively. She had not been told what to do with a prisoner. They could not keep him, certainly, and letting him away was a risk too. For the time being she simply watched Jarvis. The man's eyes rolled around for a moment and then focused on the hooded assassin crouched before him, then flashed to the knife. He started to babble.

"Hey, there's no need for this, I'm just a foot soldier, I-"

Jarvis grinned and pushed the knife blade onto the mans throat

"Stop. Talking."

The man started to sweat and fidget, trying to edge his exposed neck away from the sharp edge of the knife.

"Who sent you? Are you looking for us?"

"No, nobody! We were just delivering messages to Dras-Leona, I swear it! I swear upon my fathers grave!"

Jarvis nodded

"Good, that's all I needed to know."

The assassin drew the knife back and placed a hand over the mans mouth. The soldier began to cry. Arien leapt forward and grabbed Jarvis's hand.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

Jarvis turned and fixed her with a cold eye

"We can't take him with us, and we can't let him go. All of Galbatorix's soldiers take an oath in the ancient language to obey him, it doesn't matter how much he wants to help us, it will be a matter of time before the oath makes him turn us in, and then we'll be run down like dogs. Is that what you want?"

Arien stood for a moment and then nodded silently. The mans sobs reached a fevered pitch and despite Jarvis's hand she could hear him pleading with them. She stood transfixed in horror as Jarvis plunged the blade into the mans neck. It took him only a few seconds to die. The assassin pulled his blade out of the young soldier and wiped it on the grass before sheathing it. Arien turned away and placed a hand on her stomach, trying not to throw up. This was not anything like how she had imagined working for the Varden. Killing was supposed to be done on the field of battle, or through some skillful maneuver, and yet what the young assassin had just done felt more like cold blooded murder. Her voice came out in a whisper.

"That was wrong."

Jarvis regarded her coldly.

"I thought you elves were made of sterner stuff. This is the nature of conflict, take it or leave it."

The elf sat down, leaning against a tree.

"I wish I could leave it."

Jarvis nodded and patted her on the shoulder

"Water under the bridge."

Arien repeated the words to herself.

"Water under the bridge..."

Jarvis concealed the bodies and they made camp farther from the road. Although she had no trouble getting to sleep that night, the crying mans face plagued the young elf's dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

He was sitting on a cliff, looking out over a dark expanse of clouds, dark and roiling like a black sea, no ground in sight. His feet dangled for a moment, and then a compulsion took him. He jumped. The light fell away as he was immersed instantly in dark clouds, dampness all around him as he plummeted down, down. Something was wrong, there was a hand on his side, pushing him...

"Come on, wake up."

Jarvis opened his bleary eyes to Arien, crouching over him and trying to stir him awake.

"Alright, I'm up. What time is it?"

The sky was still dark, but there was a faint light on the horizon.

"Just before dawn. We must make good time if we are to reach the southern tip of Lake Leona by nightfall."

Jarvis pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed his forehead. The same obscure dreams plagued him since he had escaped. Always a cliff, and always he jumped into darkness. Arien sat across from him and produced a loaf of bread, breaking of a piece which he accepted with a mumbled thanks.

"Something wrong?"

Jarvis shook himself, he had been staring at his bread, lost in thought. He put a bit in his mouth and chewed hungrily.

"No. Nothing wrong."

He looked up at the elf.

"How about you? You alright?"

Arien continued to chew her bread for a moment, angular jaw working noislessly. Then she swallowed and nodded.

"Yes. I think so."

Jarvis fiddled with his ring absentmindedly, swiveling it around on his forefinger with a thumb.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, I didn't know you were, ah, not, well, you know..."

He trailed off awkwardly, but the elf nodded, getting his point.

"I was a spellcaster before I joined the Varden. Little to no swordsman training. I thought it would be an adventure. My mother knew more than I did, and she refused to condone it. Now I think I know why."

The assassin finished the last scrap of bread and watched a lizard pull itself sluggishly to the top of a spiky bush, spreading in preparation for the sun that would soon break over the distant plains. From their vantage point Jarvis could see the Lake Leona, little wind-driven waves breaking constantly on the pebbly shore.

"The first one is always the hardest to watch, but it gets easier with time."

"I don't know If I want it to get easier."

Jarvis said nothing. Arien finished her breakfast and the two of them approached the horses that had been tied to a tree the previous night. The grazing animals looked up from their grass as they approached, Arien teaching Jarvis the sentence i the anciet language that would assure his steed he meant no harm. Once the mounts were pacified, Jarvis pulled himself into the saddle, much less gracefully than Arien next to him. He had never been much of a horseman.

***

Arien stood on the crest of the hill, looking down into the dimly glowing city of Bellatona. They were both tired, patrols dogged the roads and more than once they were almost seen. Finnaly the stress had gotten to Jarvis and he had insisted that they move farther form the road. As a result they had overshot Bellatona by a good mile and were now on a ridge over looking the Jiet river. The massive ribbon of blue twisted through the grassy plains, the gravel road running parallel to it, looking like twin snakes in the fading light. The bridge was unguarded, but the approach to the castle was almost perfectly flat. The city walls could see for miles in any direction, and would pick them up instantly. Jarvis heaved a deep sigh and Arien twisted around to look at him.

"You know you could help instead of simply groaning."

Jarvis retreated from the berm and began to rummage through his horses saddlebag, looking for food.

Arien turned back to the city, shading her eyes against the evening sun. After watching for another few minutes she joined Jarvis in procuring something to eat. The assassin flicked his hood up against a gust of wind.

"So? What's the plan?"

Arien shrugged.

"I haven't the faintest idea."

"Aren't you supposed to be a magician? Why can't you just make us invisible?"

Arien shook her head.

"Already thought of that. Pure invisibility is hard to maintain while moving. I would be dead before we covered the whole distance. Unless..."

"Unless what?" Jarvis questioned

The elf did not say anything in reply but walked toward Jarvis, who eyed her apprehensively.

"Turn around."

Jarvis hesitated.

"Why? What are you-"

Arien rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to bite you, just do it."

Jarvis faced away from her slowly. Common sense dictated that something as crafty as an elf demanded at least one eye at all times, if not two. Arien pressed her hand onto the back of his cloak and muttered a long sentence in the ancient language. Jarvis didn't notice any difference, and the elf stepped away.

"Turn your head and look now at your back."

Jarvis craned his head uncomfortably and looked at the back of his cloak.

One half of it showed the dark green of the grass, interspersed with loose rocks and dirt here and there. The top half reflected the exact hue of the sky, even matching the sparse clouds that hung over the sunset. He grinned broadly for the first time that day.

"This is incredible!"

Arien looked at it ponderously.

"I think I can maintain that without too much effort. We'll just wait until nightfall."

Jarvis sat down and leaned against a weather-worn boulder. He rummaged in his pack, and after a few moments produced a pipe and began smoking. Thick wafts of fragrant smoke issued from his lips now and then. Arien wrinkled her nose, her heightened sense of smell overwhelmed by the pungent herbs. She moved a little so as not to be downwind from him. Of all the races, save maybe the Urgals, the humans had the oddest habits.

"We will have to leave the horses."

Jarvis blew out a stream of blue vapor and nodded glumly. He had been enjoying the few days of respite a beast of burden had provided.

***

The sentry sat, almost unmoving in the tower, his eyes aching from the effort of keeping them open. There had been a raucous night at the bar only a day ago and he was still recovering, his limbs leaden and his body plagued by headaches. A patch of grass caught his attention. Or rather, the two odd shimmers that were moving through it, slight distortions in the grassy slope that lead up to the city walls. The guard stood and rubbed his eyes. They were gone.

"Trick of the eyes..." He murmured to himself.

***

Arien breathed out deeply. She had been staring at the bottoms of Jarvis's boots for almost two hours since they crawled on all fours, camouflaged, over the distance between them and the walls. Twice they had rested, even the elf's arms slowing down as fatigue seeped into them with a dull ache. At last they reached the wall, the perfectly mortared stone towering above their heads.

"It's bigger up close." Jarvis muttered as he pushed himself into a crouch.

Arien pulled a length of rope from her pack and tied a large metal claw on the end. She wrapped the hook with a layer of cloth to muffle the clattering sound it would make. The elf took a few steps back and threw the weight overhand. It sailed in a graceful ark over the rampart and there was a distant _thud_. Gently she reeled the line in until it caught on something. After a few tugs to ensure it could bear their weight she lept nimbly onto it and began hoisting herself up, Jarvis close behind. Two shadows spilled onto the top of the battlements. Arien placed the grappling hook back into her bag and motioned for Jarvis to follow. Carefully they made their way past a guard tower, it's lone inhabitant snoring gently, and down a wooden scaffold, dropping silently to the paved street.

"Where do we go from here? No one will have us at this hour in the morning." Jarvis hissed to the elf.

"There are some. We came in by this direction for a reason. This is the market quarter, no one ever asks questions if you hand them a coin or two."

They moved off, making their way inwards into the city, eyes open for a inn with a light on. The pair appeared as ghosts in the darkness, only observed by a few creatures. A tomcat watched them from his perch on a wooden fence, whiskers twitching slightly in the cold wind coming off of the Jiet River. At last they stumbled into a main intersection and saw a yellow beam of light and voices coming from a tavern on the left side of the street. Wearily they made for it, eager to get their feet out from under them. Jarvis paid the barmaid some money and they retired to a room that was small but surprisingly clean. There was only one bed so Jarvis lay in a corner, his cloak pulled tight to ward off the drafts that kept gusting under the door.

***

Jarvis's eyes blinked open and he winced. The light was shining through the window and directly into his eyes. Reluctantly he got up and stumbled to the window. He noticed Arien, sitting on the edge of her bed looking into a small glass vial. After a moment she held it out to him.

"Drink this."

Jarvis took the vial from her outstretched hand and eyed it dubiously.

"And this is...?"

"Antidote. Its been nearly a week, and I can't have you dropping dead just yet."

Jarvis drank the potion in one sip, then made a face.

"Ugh... Tastes awful, what did you put in it?"

The elf smiled slyly and took the bottle back from him.

"You know I can't tell you that. Even if I did, the antidote is just as hard to come by as the poison itself. Very popular in the slave trade."

"So you were going to slip this tom me regardless, am I correct?"

"More or less. I was told you might be unwilling to accompany me."

"I wasn't born onto this earth to fight anyone's battles save my own."

"Sometimes duty compels us to do things for the greater good."

"Think of it from my perspective. Say Galbatorix wins, crushes your rebellion under his heel. What happens to me? My line of work is still much in demand. As long as there are but two people left on this world, I guarantee you, one of them will eventually ask us to kill the other one."

Arien stared at him incredulously

"That's really how you think of everything? In terms of personal gain?"

Jarvis turned from the window and returned her stare.

"Is that so wrong?"

"Yes! Yes it is! What about the other people that share this world with you?"

"What about them?"

Arien shook her head in exasperation

"You must lead a lonely existence."

"Maybe, but at least it is never boring."

The elf stood and picked up her pack

"Come. We must go and find supplies."

***

Jarvis leaned against a temporary barricade in the marketplace, surveying the crowd pensively. Behind him he could hear Arien haggling with a stall owner over the price of a bushel of apples. The square was a beehive of acticity, makeshift stalls adivtised eveything from fine jewelry to cosmetics, to fresh produce. Children chased each other through the market, women perused the stalls, examining things and chatting with friends, and salesmen shouted their pitch to the congregation. All in all it was a bit suffocating and Jarvis was glad when they broke away, even if the elf volunteered him to carry the goods she had purchased.

"Now we just need... Leather, alright, I think the tanners is just up the street this way."

Together they walked up the cobbled street, doging children and the occasional horse. Before stepping into the shop Arien checked her pocket and cursed.

"Blast, I don't have hardly any money left!"

Jarvis set down the basket of items and reached into his own pocket, withdrawing a small moleskin pouch that jingled faintly. He tossed it to the elf who caught it and looked at him incredulously.

"Where did you get this?"

"Ah, found it. Sitting on a counter all alone."

"We can't pay with this, this is stolen."

"Relax, I'm pretty sure it belonged to a wealthy man."

"That still doesn't make it right!"

"But it makes it better than wrong. Look, if you don't want it I'd like to have it back, there was an absolutely beautiful pipe back there that was singing my name."

Arien expression did not change but she took the coins grudgingly

"You are an unscrupulous beggar and no doubt."

"Would you love me if I were anything but a rascal?"

Rolling her eyes, the elf straightened her cap and walked into the tannery, a smiling Jarvis close behind.

***

Night stretched on as Jarvis and Arien dashed over the plains. He almost missed the city now, but it was long gone, a little blip on the horizon that had faded into obscurity as the days went by. Their travel followed a strict pattern. Awake at dawn, they would eat a sparse meal and run the rest of the day, as much as their muscles could tolerate, taking breaks every so often to let their legs stop aching and catch their collective breath. Jarvis had been a good deal more winded than Arien, who he suspected was holding herself back to allow him to keep pace. Still, he made it a point of pride to never ask that they stop, it just happened, almost spontaneously, and they spoke little through out the day. A few hours after nightfall, just when Jarvis was reaching his breaking point they would stop and eat a meal before going to bed. He slept so soundly he doubted that he would wake even if he was struck by a rock. This night seemed to be different however, he could sense the elf's eagerness, and he knew that Feinster must be close. Jarvis forced his tired limbs to keep running just a few more steps, just a few more steps. They started to go uphill, leaving the plain behind them. Arien seemed to sense Jarvis's exhaustion and slowed to a walk. They crested the hill and Jarvis's tired eyes opened wide. The city of Feinster stretched to their right, but it was what lay just a little ways off that amazed him. Just beyond the range of the cities archers lay a massive camp. Thousands of fires burned in the night, making the surroundings glow with a strange and other-worldly light, casting long faint shadows where it touched upraised rocks.

"Come, we can make it tonight easily, it is not but a mile and a half away."

Jarvis nodded and shook himself, eager for the journey to be over and done with. After a moment of adjusting rucksacks, and drinking some water, the two began their trek down the slope, the elf taking a slightly circular path to avoid the archers effective range from the battlements. A minute passed and Arien broke into a run, Jarvis doggedly following in her footsteps, panting lightly.


	4. Chapter 4

Jarvis stood at attention, hands clasped behind him. He had gotten a bath for the first time in quite a while, and it had put him in better spirits. Arien stood next to him, although a little less formally. They were in a rather large tent, the sunlight shining through the thin white layer of canvas, an absolutely enormous array of maps, charts, diagrams, books, and other such things were stacked against the sides of the tent. As Jarvis was looking closer Jörmundur stepped in, and two guards took up position outside the tent. He seated himself behind an oaken desk and addressed the elf, his eyes sliding over Jarvis as if he wasn't there.

"I came as soon as I could, excellent work, Nasuada is pleased and has offered you an audience later if time permits."

Arien smiled and bowed her head slightly

"I will gladly accept."

"Good. Now, on to more pressing matters. Feinster has always been on the top of the list if there were ever a breakout from Surda. Apparently Galbatorix's generals have come to much the same conclusion, and although it is not nearly enough to prevent us from taking the city, there has been a swell in the number of Imperial troops stationed in Feinster. Still, most of the fighting will be against the army regulars, loyalist militia groups, and of course, the city guard. Keep in mind that the city has NOT been evacuated and civilian casualties will be an ever-present danger. The local ruler is her highness Lady Lorana. She is only bound to Galbatorix by oaths, but they will prevent her from interfering in the cities defense. This includes countermanding orders, so do not expect the defenders to give any quarter. Your task will be to neutralize a coven of magicians, situated in a church-"

Jörmundur turned for a moment and rifled through a stack of maps behind him. He produced a square sheet of parchment, and with a stick of charcoal, marked a circle on the map.

"-here. They are not particularly powerful, but if let loose hey could cause great damage to our forces. The planned line of skirmish has been adjusted-"

Jörmundur drew a long black line near the halfway mark of the city.

"-to this position, to allow you to move safely to the church. Needless to say, the objective is rather important, and it would be a grave lapse if you were to fail."

Arien nodded hastily

"We shall not fail."

"That is good, for much rests upon this. Arien, you are dismissed. Jarvis, you stay, I would like a word."

Arien gave Jarvis a questioning look but Jarvis just shrugged and she walked out of the tent. Jörmundur continued to write at his desk for a few minutes, not looking at Jarvis. After a while he set his quill down and let out a deep breath.

"Jarvis, Jarvis, Jarvis. What AM I going to do with you?"

"Have me fight for you, apparently."

"I knew your guild master, way back when. He was a cheat, a trickster, wily as a weasel, and completely untrustworthy."

Jörmundur got up and circled around his desk, bringing Jarvis eye-to-eye with him.

"He was just like you. I know what you do for a living, assassin. You kill, treacherously, in cold blood. If you were not a valuable bargaining chip I would have you imprisoned on the spot."

Jarvis said nothing and returned Jörmundur's stare with his own. After a long silence Jörmundur glanced at the entrance to the tent and spoke more softly.

"If keeping a prisoner of war is difficult, keeping a magician hostage is nigh impossible for our encampment. The magicians must die. Every last one."

"Why didn't you tell Arien this?"

"Arien is one of my best spies. Cunning, resourceful, courageous, and loyal. But although she is talented with a blade, she is no soldier, much less a murderer like you. She is young by elven standards, and has yet to know open battle. I do not think she could bring herself to do what I ask you to do."

Jörmundur walked to a cabinet leaning against the wall and opened it with a small key. He withdrew a round, greenish flask, who's contents gave off a pungent smell that wrinkled Jarvis's nose.

"This is liquid fire. All you need do is have Arien light the wick and throw it into the church, ensuring none escape. It will save you the trouble of lining them all up and beheading them."

Jarvis took the bottle from Jörmundur and looked at him, a mischievous smile twisting the corners of his lips.

"You're a man after my own heart."

Jörmundur frowned and waved him away

"I do what I must, now go, begone from my sight."

Jarvis blinked slightly upon entering the sunlight, and quickly stowed the green bottle in his tunic pocket as Arien approached.

"What did he want?"

"Oh nothing, just ironed out some specifics is all."

The elf looked skeptical but seemed to accept the answer.


	5. Chapter 5

Smoke engulfed Jarvis and Arien, stinging their eyes and making their breaths short and labored. They stumbled out of the storefront and continued down the side road, the long square buildings of the Imperial Barracks lying before them. The city was engulfed in the sound of shouting and clash of steel and wood. The trebuchets had been raining down fire upon the forces of the Varden since the assault had begun, assailing the men as they desperately fought their way towards the palace in the city center. A group of pike men rushed past the two and continued up the street towards the frontline just a few hundred paces away. As more soldiers ran past to aid their comrades Jarvis called out to Arien above the din.

"We must find another way around!"

Arien nodded and sped off down a street that would take them parallel to the frontal side of the skirmish and around the soldiers quarters where the remnants of the Empire's troops fought a bitter last stand. Pockets of resistance bubbled over throughout the city, outflanked units of men bursting from houses to kill or be killed. Fires had spread and consumed many houses as the siege engines of Feinster were turned on their own buildings, to deny the enemy any refuge from arrows and spears. Citizens were rare, most having fled to the safety of the inner castle walls of the palace or into the remaining homes. Even as they ran a massive shadow fell over them for a moment and a tremendous roar split the air, causing a momentary lull as both sides either screamed in terror or yelled in triumph. Shadeslayer was among the thick of it. Occasionally his massive blue terror would take flight, spewing fire down on groups of soldiers and bowmen. The dragon disappeared as they rounded a corner, and almost smack into a group of enemy, looking lost and confused in the chaos of battle. The men immediately raised their swords and ran at the pair, who split to either side, Arien's blade flashing back and forth fighting off a group of five that pushed her steadily back towards a wall. Jarvis himself kept three swords at bay, knocking and bashing against each other. Finally one man grew impatient and drew his sword over his head for a massive blow and Jarvis impaled the man, pushing himself and his blade forward as hard as he could. His free arm rotated them towards the two others and the assassin kicked the slain man off of his blade and tumbling into the enemy, who tripped and fell over. Jarvis was upon them immediately, stabbing as fast as he could until no movement remained. The pair quickly outflanked and dispatched the five soldiers assailing Arien, their two blades swiping in unison. After a few of the men had been killed the remaining three gave in and dashed off. Jarvis was about to give chase when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"No, we have orders, let the others deal with them."

Jarvis took a deep breath and nodded. Together they kept along their direction, encountering no more resistance. Indeed, as they pounded down the streets the only sin of life that came from the shuttered houses was the occasional face of the woman or child, curious eyes melting away at their approach. Ahead lay the church that Nasuada had tasked them with. Jarvis could hear raised voices even from across the street. The building was rather small, a wooden cathedral designed to fit no more than a hundred. One large set of double doors sat in front and, Jarvis knew from the spies, only one other door was set into the building, a small clergy entrance along the side. Jarvis walked silently, heel-to-toe along the cobbles around the side of the church. Once he was directly below a large stained glass window of some ancient battle, he put his back to the wall and gave the elf a hand up. With his added height she cautiously peered through the window.

"Yes, they are all there. I can see all of the magicians, it looks like most of the rulers inner circle, but some are missing."

"Can you hear what they are saying?" Jarvis whispered up to the elf.

Arien cocked her head slightly, and after a minute, looked down to Jarvis

"Not everything, but I think they are arguing over what to do. Some want to go out and aid in battle, the others want to stay put."

Jarvis nodded.

"Come on down."

Arien stepped down and drew her blade

"I can feel their minds, they are not proficient in magic. I doubt they pose any threat to us. We can storm in and take them all pris-"

For once it was Jarvis that cut across the elf's words.

"No, they are all to die, even a weak magician is too dangerous to keep captive at the moment, we have not the housing or food to spare, especially if the battle does not go our way."

The assassin reached into his pack and withdrew the large round jar that Nasuada had given him. Arien looked at it in horror.

"That's... horrible! We can't-"

"We must. Light it."

Jarvis held out the jar, a thin wick falling away into the interior where the contents sloshed ominously. Arien hesitantly held out her hand and mumbled in the ancient language. A flame sprung to life against the cord of rope and Jarvis sprang into action. Grabbing pieces of stone nearby he pushed them against the smaller side door, until it was impossible to open it from the inside. Then he beckoned franticly to the elf and the pair dashed to the front of the church. Jarvis stood back and lobbed the bottle through the huge stained glass pane that dominated the top of the cathedral. It crashed through the window with a faint tinkle and both human and elf threw themselves against the large oaken doors into the church, sealing them. There was a shout and then a massive blast rattled the building and blew out its windows. Enchanted flame burst through the holes in the roof and embroiled the inside, turning it into a little square of inferno. The screaming started on a low note, with shouting and yells, fists pounded on the closed doors as Arien and Jarvis pushed against the desperate sorcerers, their cries becoming ever louder as the flames engulfed the whole of the church. In the midst of the chaos Jarvis found himself looking behind him, to the street. The street was full of townsfolk. Old and young, there were easily forty, mother clutching children close to them, white haired men in soiled tunics, young fathers, blacksmiths, and farmers stared at the two. Some of the women were crying. A particularly desperate blow made Jarvis's door budge a little and he pushed back harder, keeping the portals shut even as billows of hot air and foul smelling smoke poured out. Just as the screams reached their highest point a deep cracking noise resounded throughout the square. Jarvis looked across at Arien who was still holding her door closed. The elf's lower lip was trembling, tears streaming down her face. Though she held fast, every time the men inside tried to bash through she grimaced, as though she shared their pain. Even through the cacophony, Jarvis heard her.

"I can feel all of them... "

Another massive crack, larger than the last sounded and Jarvis looked up. The short bell tower swayed in the flames, and then collapsed inward, taking the roof with it. There was a moment of silence and then a massive crash as the falling timber crushed all beneath. A gout of flame burst the front doors open, throwing the elf and man back like dolls, tumbling onto the street. The church walls still stood eerily, flames leaping anew into the sky, smoke bathing the street in an unearthly red glow. Ashes floated past like snow flakes. Jarvis pulled the elf to her feet. She was trembling. The crowd backed away slowly, the only sound besides the crackling of the fire and the distant clash of swords being the occasional muffled sob. The two walked slowly from the scene, and turned into an alley, the shadows that the flames cast flickering oddly. Arien's trembling intensified and she pushed Jarvis away, laying her back into the wall and sinking to the cobble stones. The madness of battle consumed her and she cried openly. She whispered something and Jarvis knelt to hear.

"No more. I can't listen to another life snuffed like that."

Jarvis nodded gravely

"Our task is done, there won't be any more killing."

After a moment he sat down across from her and gazed off into spaces, his eyes unfocused. A weariness clouded his brain, a sudden tiredness, that had nothing to do with his body.

(A/N It's not over yet, stay tuned ya'll)


	6. Chapter 6

(A/N Takes place during the final assault on Feinster, the breaching of the castle wall, and the taking of the last stronghold in the city. Eragon is at this point inside, deep in combat with the shade. If you like it, I encourage you to Rate, Review, and give feedback.)

Jarvis kicked a pebble in frustration. It skittered down the deserted street and came to a rest at the wheels of an abandoned cart, making a distinctively unhelpful clack that carried above the distant sounds of battle. They were lost.

"This is ridiculous"

Arien was providing little input at this point. Her face was grey and uncharacteristically ashen. There were streaks of dirt running down here face where ashes had collected in her tears and solidified. The whole thing was sort of surreal. They had been wandering for minutes around the city streets, trying to find a way out.

"Maybe we should just make for the front. Someone has to have a map of this place."

His words were met with silence and her turned to face the elf in frustration. His expression grew somber when he saw her face. Her eyes were distant and unfocused, lips were slightly parted, like a sleepwalker.

"Hey, can you keep it together for a little longer? I need you here, with me."

Arien shook her head as if clearing it and nodded. The haunted look did not leave her eyes but she was at least acknowledging him.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize."

The pair drifted silently through the road, Jarvis making a silent decision to head for the main battle. Better to be found and in danger than lost and ambushed. The ring of swords grew closer and he could see the inner castle jutting up just a few blocks to their right. At last a patrol, late to the conflict, came marching around a corner. The assassin called out to them, raising a hand.

"Ho there! Are you with the Varden?"

A burly man clad in mail halted the group.

"Aye, I trust you are as well?"

"Yes. Actually we're a little lost, can we join up with you?" 

The man considered the two for a moment and then nodded.

"Alright, stay to the back though, my men need plenty of room to swing."

Jogging along with the rest of the soldiers they cut down another street and emerged onto the cities' man thoroughfare. The sounds of fighting grew nearer and nearer and they saw men on all sides, most wounded, being dragged away from the frontline by their comrades. A solid seething wall of fighting men stood just a block away, the screams and clangs ringing close at hand. The group of men Jarvis was travelling with sped up and they barreled into the melee, spears thrusting and axes swinging. Jarvis stuck together with Arien, skirting the clash and jumping in to help where ever he could. A friendly soldier was being driven backwards by two pike men, Jarvis jumped in behind them, cut their hamstrings and stabbed them both once in the stomach. Arien parried a jab from a dismounted cavalryman and gave him a slash that extended from his shoulder to his hip. The man gasped and collapsed writhing to the ground. The elf coldly finished him with an underhand stab. Another soldier's sword connected with the wards on her back and she staggered. Jarvis barged through to her, kicked the man in the fork of his legs and took his head off with a blazing two handed stroke. After that the battle faded into red. Hacking and slashing, elf and man stood back to back, simply trying to stay alive in the midst of the brawl. Slowly the din subsided, and at last the rest of the enemy disengaged and sprinted back towards the palace gates, which opened briefly to admit them and then slammed shut again. The Varden soldiers were too exhausted to give chase, and the remaining infantry that were still standing advanced slowly up the street, eyes scanning the inner palace wall and entrance that lay in front of them, large enough to fit four horses riding abreast. Once they reached the wall the platoon halted and orders were relayed to a runner. Jarvis withdrew his waterskin and drank some, then offered it to Arien who shook her head.

"You sure? You look pale."

"I feel pale."

Her voice was a weary rasp, made hoarse from the ashes that swirled around their feet. The city was a hellscape, fires raged in almost every quadrant, with no one to put them out. Buildings lay destroyed or broken, looking like odd empty dollhouses, cut away to show the inside. Bodies had been piled to the side of the road, both friend and enemy sharing a final resting place, small rivers of blood coating the cobbled streets in a grotesque film that made men slip. After a few minutes a group of magicians from the Varden appeared back with the runner and took positions in front of the gate. There were shouts and the men readied themselves again. Assassin and elf stood, taking up a position next to the doorway. For a whole minute there was silence, save for the magicians, who were muttering something in the ancient language, their hands pressed against the door, eyes closed as if trying to recall a distant memory. At once their eyes flicked open and they scattered back from the door, which burst open with a tremendous bang, shards of smoking wood propelled far and wide. The Varden charged through the gap and into the courtyard.

It might have been a beautiful place once, but it certainly wasn't now. High stone walls ringed the enclosure, the castle and towers nestled against the back wall. Gardens of flowers had been trampled underfoot by men and siege engines, statues lay smashed, their white marble faces looking mournfully up at the smoky sky. The remaining garrison of Imperial soldiers charged them, morale replaced by a desperate drive to survive. High on the castle ramparts, a group of archers pulled back their drawstrings and released them, sending the shafts hissing through the air. Jarvis saw the cloud of arrows a split second before they hit. Arien threw herself down to the ground, but the assassin was not nearly so quick. A shaft penetrated the front of his tunic and buried itself halfway into his stomach, sticking out at an odd angle and missing his spine by inches.

Shock.

Jarvis gasped and clutched at the black-feathered arrow, an overwhelming haze of pain threatening to send him to sleep. He fought it, knowing to sleep would mean death. Arien looked up from the ground and screamed, but her voice was sucked away by the cacophony of battle. Jarvis collapsed to his knees, eyes shut tight, teeth bared in a grimace. Blood trickled down the corners of his mouth, and he tasted copper. The elf jumped up and put her arms under his armpits, dragging him towards one of the white stone mausoleums that housed the royal dead. Swords clashed and men fell all around them as she ran, arrows clinking off of shields and burying themselves into the ground. Jarvis's sense of time slowed and the pain began throbbing, each pulse of overwhelming agony draining him of strength, deadening his limbs. Arien reached the entrance and pulled him inside, laying him against the catacomb wall. Her tear stained face came to him faintly, as though far away. Black ate at the edges of his vision. She did not attempt to heal his wounds, as they were too great for her alone. Realization hit home and he opened his mouth, his voice coming in a whisper.

"I'm afraid to die."

Ariens voice drifted across the air to him.

"You're going to be fine, okay? Fine! The battle is going to end, and the magicians will come and help me heal you, okay? Just stay wi- Jarvis! Look at me!"

"It's so hard, I just want to sleep..."

"Don't do that, stay awake Jarvis, STAY AWAKE!"

Slowly he pulled a hand to his face, finding it slick with his own blood.

_Am I really bleeding that much? _

He should do something, say something. The void beckoned. Maybe dying wasn't so bad after all...

His eyes closed slowly, and he drifted into sleep.

***

His thoughts came to him through a fog.

_Am I dead?_

An old voice, tired but kind drifted to him from close by.

"**Not yet.**"

Jarvis realized he was sitting on the edge of a cliff, his legs dangling over. His old nightmare seemed more real than ever now, the dark clouds swirling around beneath him.

"**But you could be.**"

Jarvis turned and saw an old man with a white beard sitting next to him, dressed only in a grey robe, the hood drawn over his head. A strange power seemed to emanate from him. Ancient. Old beyond words. Wise and terrible. Jarvis shuddered.

"Should I be dead?"

"**That is the question**"

"Who are you?"

The old man laughed, an odd ringing sound that seemed to echo off of invisible walls.

"**You know who I am, Jarvis. You know very well.** **I am Angvard.** **Sentinel of death itself.**"

Jarvis did not speak. A shiver again ran through him.

"**There is no need to be frightened, you have a choice in this, and that is more than most can say.**"

"What choice is that?"

"**Life, or death.**"

The old man stood and to Jarvis's amazement walked out onto thin air, turning to stand before him. Angvard extended his sleeve and a pale hand of bone protruded out, palm up.

"**Many is the life you have ended. Many is the soul that was sent my way because of you. Now I am giving YOU a choice. You can take my hand, and come with me into the void.**"

"Or?"

"**Or you can continue. Your life is far from over. A long march of time awaits, and I am not unwilling to let you have another chance of it.** **There is always time.**"

Jarvis looked out across the gap, the skeletal hand extended to him. What if he took the hand? A release would be... Indescribable. Life was weary. On he sat, and pondered. The old man didn't seem to mind in the slightest. It would be so easy. Just take the hand and be rid of it all. Know all the truths and care about none of them. The manacles of life would be cut away and he would be free from everything. That's what he had always wanted right? Freedom? But the more he thought upon it the more the choice he had to make became clear to him. Slowly, he stood.

"I will go on."

Angvard smiled.

"**The harder choice, yes. But fear not, we will meet again, when the time is right, rest assured of that.**"

Jarvis nodded, turned away from the hovering Death and walked away from the cliff. He had never turned around before. In his nightmares the cliff had always dominated his view. It was actually quite nice. A rolling green plateau folded away before him. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky and he could see a few houses in the distance. They looked oddly familiar. Jarvis walked towards them and they grew close at a rapid rate, as if he were sprinting. He stopped in front of the front door and it opened. In the doorway stood a smiling woman, still fairly young, her black hair tinged with the first streaks of grey. She beamed and Jarvis realized with a jolt who it was.

"Mom?"

He was about to run and embrace her when his eyes flicked open and the dream was smashed.

Slowly his body assailed his brain with complaints. Pain in his stomach, a horrible dull ache. His head throbbed and his eyes would not focus, not that there was much to focus on. The white linen of the tent was glowing with afternoon light.

He was alive.

(A/N Remember to put in your two cents with a review)


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing Jarvis felt was pain. His eyes flicked around the room. There were trays of potions, bloody knives, and other odd surgical implements stacked on tables inside the small tent. Faintly he could hear the moans of other injured men. He tried to sit up but he was too weak, and gave up after a few futile tries. The horrible throbbing ache in his stomach prevented him from going back to sleep, so he contented himself with looking around at the parts of the room he could see. His clothes were stacked on a table to his right, blood soaked and torn. Come to think of it, he wasn't wearing anything besides a pair of cloth trousers. Tremulously he lifted a hand and put it to his chest, pulling his fingers over the skin to test his injuries. There was a knot of scar tissue on his belly, a thin vertical cut where the arrowhead had slammed into him. A gust of wind made the entrance to the small tent flutter and a ray of midday light flashed in for a fleeting moment and then disappeared.

***

Arien waited, arms crossed outside the first of the long rows of infirmary tents. It was an intolerable place, screams drifted up now and then from men deep in the grips of pain. There was a stench of death that pervaded everything. At the sound of footsteps she turned and saw a male healer dressed in a blood stained tunic bustling towards her, humming a tune under his breath.

"So?"

The healer flipped through a list and nodded.

"Yes, he's in a fit state for visitors, a little weak perhaps, but nothing that he won't get over with a good hot meal or two. Twenty seven down, thirty six across. Small white tent."

The elf thanked him and began walking into the sea of pitched tents. Healers rushed past occasionally, shouting something frantic, gripping a potion or instrument or sometimes a wounded man. It was barely controlled chaos, but it was nothing compared to when Arien had first brought Jarvis in. The temporary hospitals in the city had been all filled up by then, and she had had to drag him out into the main encampment at the base of the city wall to get help. Then the grass was slick with blood, and the screams were fresh. The sounds drifted up to her from a black pit in her memory.

"Thirty-five, thirty six."

Tentatively she pushed the tent flap aside. The assassin lay on a small wooden table, bare save for a pair of worn trousers. The elf flushed, she had never seen the assassin without a shirt on. Scars of every shape and size dotted his lean frame, including the one that had just formed over his stomach. Blearily, he looked over at her and raised one arm.

"Who is it?"

Arien took his hand gently and squeezed it, her soft skin meeting his calloused palms.

"Me."

Jarvis voice sounded like a rasp.

"Please, I need water..."

The elf nodded and looked around the tent for anything the healer might have left behind. Her eyes alight on a small stone pitcher and she brought it over to him. His hands grasped it but were too weak to lift it entirely. He strained for a few more moments before Arien reached in and helped him. Together they tipped some water into his mouth, some falling over his lips and onto the desk. He gulped the clear liquid down thirstily, the elf replacing the jug on the side table when he was done. The only place to sit was a battered old rocking chair in the corner. Arien retrieved it and sat down next to Jarvis who tried to smile. The smile turned into a grimace and his fists clenched.

"Augh..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my stomach."

Arien again put her hand over his

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, no, I'll be okay."

The assassin flinched as another wave of pain wracked his midsection, and he tentatively tried to converse.

"Well what about you, what happened after I blacked out?"

"Nothing of consequence, I hauled you back to the casualty collection point."

"Is that where we are?"

"Yes, we're just outside the city."

Silence reigned for a moment and then Jarvis voiced a question that had been gnawing at the back of his mind ever since he had woken up.

"How long has it been since the last antidote?"

"A week and a half."

"What? But I th-"

"I lied. You weren't really poisoned."

Shock flitted over the assassins pale face.

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

To the elf's surprise he began to laugh hoarsely.

"Gods above I'm gullible. And to think I followed you all that way?"

He continued to laugh, but abruptly stopped as another paroxysm of aches gripped him. His whole body stiffened and his teeth clenched down so hard that the gums began to bleed. A low moan escape his lips. Arien laid her hand on his forehead, whispering softly to him.

"I'm here Jarvis, relax, I'm right here."

***

Dusk was settling over the encampment as Arien helped Jarvis to walk. He had made progress in the space of a few hours, but he was not quite strong enough to walk yet. She had mended his clothes with a few simple words in the ancient language and Jarvis had changed into them slowly, with a little help from the elf. After almost a half hour they made it to their sleeping tent, a patchwork of brown canvas hastily sewn together, only slightly bigger than the one Jarvis had just left. Furnishings were decidedly spartan, there were two cots on either end and a large table in the center. Arien helped Jarvis down onto his cot and sat on her own. His eyesight had also gotten better as the pain decreased, and to him, Arien looked different. Her eyes had shadows under them now, and the pupils themselves seemed to look through something instead of at it. She smiled less now, and her demeanor seemed more somber. Jarvis's thoughts turned to his vision. His mothers face floated up to him and raw emotion made him squint back tears. She had been so real... Silently he reached into a pocket in his tunic. Maybe it was still there. His fingers closed over something soft and he pulled out a small piece of white linen. On it was a fairth of his mother. Her face echoed warmth and kindness. Across from him, Arien looked up from where she had been sewing a patch onto a spare blanket and frowned.

"What is that?"

Jarvis handed it to her and she took it, examining the face.

"Oh, I've never seen a fairth on cloth before. Who is she?"

"It's my mother. A traveling salesmen did it for us once."

Arien passed it back and continued her sewing

"In Gil-Ead?"

"Oh no, I didn't always live there. When I was young I lived with my parents out near Melian. We had a good size farm there. I haven't gone back because It runs a little too close to Uru-Baen, and I don't exactly have a stellar reputation with the Empire."

Arien handed the picture back and Jarvis tucked it into his pocket.

"What about you? I assume you grew up in Du Weldenvarden."

"No, actually, I didn't. I was born there, but I got sent to live in a human city when I was nine."

"Why?"

"It's rather complicated. Suffice to say, local politics were a little touchy at that point, my mother was negotiating between two factions and felt I wasn't safe there. Not all the elves wanted to go to war on your side you know."

"Not my side."

"The Varden's side, yes, but in the beginning not all of us wanted to set one single foot outside of the forest. It had worked before was the motto, seclusion would work this time. Let the humans struggle over who controls what. It was an ignorant stance, but it died hard, and there were some unpleasant affairs before all ways said and done. Anyway, I got sent away to a farming town near the borders of the wood, and I was apprenticed to a human magician. Most elves aren't like me you understand, most of them are, by my standards, well, "tightly wound" shall we say. They rarely ever betray their intentions, and some of the things they do are just- odd."

The elf laughed softly to herself

"I have just enough memory of my home to think human habits odd and just enough time spent out in the human world to consider my own race odd. I am twice cursed."

"Why didn't you go back?"

"Back? Elf conflicts last much longer than human ones, and this was no different. By the time it was over I was no longer a child, and the only real time I had spent with my mother was at one end of a scrying mirror. So when she invited me to come back I declined. She had sent me away before merely because I was an inconvenience and a weakness, and now I was damned if I was going to answer at her beck and call. So I left and joined the Varden as a spy."

Arien sat and looked a little embarrassed, as though she had not meant to say that much. Jarvis simply nodded. A silence fell between them and the elf returned to her sewing.

***

The next afternoon found Jarvis and Arien in the remains of Feinster. The fires had all died out and the smoke had settled onto everything in the form of thick ash that swirled into the air when it was disturbed. The two walked slowly up the road that they had taken, seeing the city for the first time, free from the haze of battle. Little puffs of grey kicked up around their feet as they walked, muffling their footsteps. It was utterly silent. The Varden had taken their remaining soldiers back to the encampment where they could be better cared for, and the citizens who had not fled at the first opportunity stayed inside, fearing the occupiers. It was an odd moment of peace, that would be shattered sometime the next day when the bulk of the Varden's army moved itself into the city. For now it was a tomb, a grey haven. The overcast sky had grown darker and threatened rain, a distant rumble of thunder booming in the distance. Their wanderings eventually ended them in the courtyard where Jarvis was shot. Absentmindedly he examined the arrow shafts sticking out of the ground and attempted to pluck one out. It held fast and only a black tuft of feathers came away in his hands. He let them fall and looked around. Through the churned and devastated earth the first shoots of spring grass were pushing their way up, adding an odd tone of green to the mostly colorless landscape. A single massive tree lay in the center, the main cobbled path up to the castle wove around it. It looked as though it had been set on fire and hastily put out. In some places the bark was scorched and there were no leaves on it. The elf considered the tree for a moment and then crouched, catlike, before springing into one of the lower branches and climbing upwards. At the top she stood and looked out. Jarvis called up from below.

"How is the view?"

"Come see for yourself."

Jarvis was not much of a tree climber, there had not been many trees in his home and none of his assignments had ever required knowledge of how to scale one. Once he started however, the rest came naturally and soon he was sitting next to the elf on a high branch. To their front he could see all the way down the slope of the plain and into the Varden's camp, little trails of smoke from cooking fires spiraled up and dissipated like little fingers. The city walls engulfed them like protecting arms, and inside their reach lay countless little houses and alleys, buildings and criss-crossing lanes, a spider web of humanity that ringed inward towards them. To an outside observer, they might have resembled odd grey birds, as their clothes and faces were coated in ash. Another peal of thunder sounded closer now, and Jarvis tasted metal.

"It looks like rain."

The elf turned and pointed away to the east.

"Yes, yes it does."

Jarvis followed her finger and saw a wall of silver advancing towards them, proceeded by a slight hiss. The wall raced over the plains towards them and swept into the Varden camp extinguishing fires. The raindrops away with it. The city looked like a rock being polished, and slowly, second by second, the grey veneer was shaved away by the rushing water. Jarvis felt his hand warm broke upon them at last, in a light shower, warmed by the sun hidden behind the clouds. The water washed over them and the city, everywhere carrying the ash and looked down to see Arien's palm lying on top of it. The assassin turned and looked into her eyes, now only inches from his. Finally, she bridged the gap and their lips met. The kiss seemed to last an eternity as Jarvis's blood pounded in his head. When they broke away the elf was also flushed and she smiled, despite herself. The rain continued to pound away, but the two paid no heed to it.

(A/N If you don't see me posting updates, don't give up on me, I'm working out the rough edges in a new plotline. Feedback is very much appreciated.)


	8. Chapter 8

The wind was in his hair as Jarvis walked through the streets of Feinster. The Varden had picked up their tent stakes and moved into the city, the leadership commandeering the Castle and moving their own soldiers into abandoned homes. All around him there was a beehive of activity, men carrying away debris and making the streets passable for horse traffic. As the assassin climbed the stone steps up to the palace troops swarmed around him, moving crates of food and supplies in and out. After a few more turns and a long flight of stairs Jarvis came to the drawing room, a private chamber off of the second floor that was likely used to entertain royal guests. A small library of books lined the walls and Arien had been quite excited when Jarvis revealed this find to her. She had been deep in one thing or another pulled from those shelves ever since. Jarvis knew his letters but there had not been much in books that interested him. As he entered Arien looked up from an ornate desk, dominated by a large sheet of parchment.

"Jarvis, come look at what I found in the drawers here."

Jarvis strode over to the table and looked over her shoulder. A map of Alagesia lay before them, all the rivers and settlements marked in painstaking detail, it was a very complete version.

"That's quite something."

"Isn't it? Look, here's us over here."

The elf laid a slender finger on a dot marked "Feinster" in dark curving script. Jarvis's eye roamed the map, and alight upon another dot marked "Melian",

"And there's where I grew up."

Arien followed his finger and considered the dot. She was silent for a moment and then looked up at Jarvis.

"Would you like to see it again?"

"What do you mean?"

The elf bit her lower lip and looked pensive

"What is it?"

"I've been thinking..."

"Yeah?"

"I want to see my homeland. I'm getting older bit by bit and I still haven't laid eyes on those trees in years."

"Will the Varden release you? Shouldn't you ask them first?"

"That's the thing, I don't think they will. So I'm just going to leave and I want you to come with me."

Jarvis's eyebrows furrowed

"Come with you?"

"Yes, It's perfect! You're not saying you like it here all of a sudden are you?"

"No, no, of course not."

"Well then come with me! We can see your family again, you told me you haven't talked in years!"

It was Jarvis's turn to look uncomfortable

"Well, there's a good reason for that you know."

"And that is?"

"It's not-, well..., they just don't really like me. I'm-, what I do isn't popular with anyone, least of all my family. I'll come with you, but I need some time to think it over."

"Excellent!"

The elf jumped up from the table and threw her arms around him. Jarvis reddened a little, but smiled all the same. Arien pulled away and gave him a stern look.

"Only, don't tell anyone okay? Not a soul. We could be in a lot of trouble for leaving without permission."

Jarvis gave her a quizzical look

"Who would I tell?"

"I don't know, just don't mention it to anyone. Alright?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Now we need to think about food. We aren't going to last long traveling across the Hadarac Desert without provisions. I'll see what I can round up from the ration kitchens."

The elf walked out of the room with her characteristic feline grace, humming a strange melody under her breath.

***

She returned a few hours later, her arms laden with a bundle of food filched from the kitchen. Jarvis's eyes opened a little wider.

"How...?"

"I told them I was bringing it out to the soldiers on the battlements."

Jarvis shook his head, grinning.

"And you elves are supposed to be the epitome of manners."

"Only when necessary."

The two spent the rest of the day packing and preserving the food in rucksacks. Arien set the date to leave for the next night, and they waited. All the next day they barely saw each other. Jarvis was sent out into the city to help with the repairs and population control, as a slow trickle of people were returned to their homes and attempted to go about their life, re-opening stalls and salvaging destroyed inventory. Arien had been running messages for the better part of the day, sprinting over the hot ground to give the men their marching orders from Nasuada. Jarvis returned to their quarters late in the afternoon to find Arien rolling up the map they had been looking at earlier. A second bag was next to her and she was placing books from the library shelves around her.

"What are you packing all that for? We can't take books, they'll just weigh us down."

Arien placed the last item delicately into the bag and set it next to the rucksack

"Some of these tomes are elvish. They belong to our people, not on some human shelf, collecting dust and impressing the occasional diplomat. They are things of knowledge, not idle tokens."

Jarvis located his rucksack and peeked inside. After rummaging through, his puzzlement growing deeper by the moment, he looked up.

"Uh, Arien, there's no meat. How are we supposed to survive a crossing of the largest desert in the land on nothing but vegetables and bread?"

"That's not all I put in there, there should be some mushrooms in a package at the bottom."

"Yes, I understand that, my original question stands. Why is the meat gone?"

"Elves don't eat meat. I didn't have time to think about your dietary preferences, I was a little more concerned about getting caught, if you don't mind."

They ate a short, cold meal by candlelight and retired to their beds to wait. Jarvis lay on his bed, feet crossed, his back propped up by the bulging rucksack. The elf sat on the next bed, her foot taping nervously. The minutes stretched into hours, and finally when he thought he could take no more, Arien nodded to him and they stood. The corridor was quiet and dark when the two stepped out. An icy draft blew past, wending its way down the hall, making Jarvis shiver and pull his cloak tighter around him. As silently as they could they descended the stair case into the dining hall. The great oak table was scattered with utensils and silverware, and some of the chairs lay on the ground around it. Arien stepped towards the doorway and opened it, peeking out. She motioned to Jarvis the all clear and they crept into the lavishly decorated throne room. Two chairs were positioned up above, red carpeted steps leading down to the next set of doors and the castle entrance beyond. The velvet-soft material muffled their footsteps as two shadows crouch-walked to the next door. Jarvis fumbled for the handle in the dark, pulling it open slightly. He stopped as light spilled through the crack and waited a few seconds in tense silence. He could hear a faint sound of breathing in the other room, and slowly edged his head to the crack to look. A candle was burning low in its holder on the wall, and he could see the back of a wooden chair and a soldier, his chest rising and falling softly. The two entered the room and closed the door behind them. The antechamber was a long room with a few doors on either side. Jarvis immediately crossed the room to the large double doors that exited into the courtyard. Two windows set into the wall bathed the room in pale moonlight. Arien reached out a hand to the large metal latch that was extended across the door and began to pull it back. The thing immediately protested and for a split second there was a resounding screech of rusty metal. They both winced and the guard shifted in his sleep. Arien shook her head and looked around for another way out. A paned window stood slightly ajar on one side, left unlocked by some careless servant. Arien motioned Jarvis to the window and after a few hand motions he nodded and put his back to the wall, extending his hand to make a foothold. The elf boosted up and grabbed the window sill, her slender arms hoisting her up onto it. She pivoted around and held out a hand to Jarvis. At that moment one of the many doors opened and a maid bearing a candle bustled out, muttering to herself. She spotted the two, and the sleeping guard and froze. For half a second Jarvis watched the gears in her head work furiously, her mouth falling slightly open. Then she dropped the candle and ran out of the room.

"Intruders in the castle! Wake up!"

The guard sitting in the chair jolted awake and drew his blade.

"Hey! What do you think-"

The assassin did not wait for him to finish, but rather turned and launched himself off of one foot, throwing a punch that collided with the mans unarmored temple, cutting him off midsentence. He dropped his blade and fell to the floor clutching his head. Jarvis jumped on him and delt him several more blows to the jaw, stopping once the man fell into unconsciousness. Quickly he turned and ran back to where Arien was franticly holding out her hand. Jarvis grabbed it and after a few long seconds he managed to join her on the cramped windowsill. She pushed the window outward and slid out of it. Jarvis turned and pushed his body out of the building, until only his fingers held the ledge, and then let go, bracing his legs. He fell a little longer than expected, and his feet flew out from under him once he landed, throwing him sideways into the dirt. Quickly he picked himself up and turned, expecting to see Arien standing behind him, impatient. Instead the flat side of a sword smacked him straight in the face and he fell back onto the ground, two more soldiers jumping on him and beating him into submission. He struggled to get free and on his feet, but the soldiers clung to him, throwing him back down each time he tried. Finally he gave up and lay still. The men pushed him onto his knees and tied his hands behind him. The blood pounded in his ears and he heard another scuffle next to him. Arien was laying into the soldiers closest to her, punch and kicking furiously as they tried to subdue her. Eventually they managed to overpower her and tied her hands, setting the panting elf next to Jarvis. The men took their rucksacks which had detached during the struggle.

"Look, there's food in 'ere! Tons of it!"

"This ones full of books."

One of the men bent down and grabbed the assassin by the hair.

"Making off with valuables are we? That's a hanging offense in a time of war, Nasuada's orders."

"Let's get them back inside."

The two were lead back into the castle. Light were now on and some more maids were gathered in the hallway, staring at the two as the soldiers marched them past. Jörmundur was waiting in the throne room, flanked by more guards. He looked a little sleepy, but when Arien and Jarvis were hauled into the room his eyes flashed with anger. They were pushed back down to their knees, and Jarvis could feel blade tips pressing into the small of his back. One soldier emptied the rucksacks onto the ground in front of Jörmundur. For a long moment there was silence. Jörmundur bent and picked up a book, brushing fragments of lettuce off of it.

"Food, stolen from the mouths of others. Information, taken as if it was your birthright. I gave you my trust and you stabbed me in the back. I got you out from under your mothers thumb, I gave you shelter with the Varden, I even gave you a valuable post, and this is how you repay me? By deserting your post to run off somewhere? How do I know you aren't going to go straight to Galbatorix and tell him everything you know?"

Arien looked shocked

"I would never betray the Varden!"

"You already have. And you-"

Jörmundur turned to Jarvis, his eyes boring holes into the assassin.

"You are a snake. I wouldn't be surprised if you put her up to this, although that doesn't speak much for her character if it is true. Regardless, you have worn out your already tenuous welcome here. Take them to the holding cell until morning, I will decide what to do with them by then."

Jarvis and the elf were roughly hauled to their feet and shoved down a side passageway.

(A/N: More to come, don't touch that dial!)


	9. Chapter 9

For the second time that spring, Jarvis was thrown onto a cold cell floor. He could hear Arien struggling in te cell next to him. There was a resounding clang and click as the cell doors were locked. The soldiers exited the room and shut the door. There was absolute silence for a moment or so, and then Jarvis heard Arien whispering.

"Jarvis. Jarvis!"

"What?"

"We need to get out of here."

"Oh really? I wasn't aware! Just freeze the bars like you did last time."

"Its not working, they're too thick!"

A silent wave of panic descended on Jarvis. They were rapidly running out of options.

"I need to think about this for a moment."

In the darkness next to him Arien rolled her eyes.

"Let me know if you have any blinding insight."

Silence greeted her. Jarvis leaned against the wall, his hands clenching and unclenching. Normally he would have produced his pipe in moments of pensive thought, but it, and all his other belongings were up the hall in the jailors quarters. He had once heard of a man weakening the bars of his window bit by bit with a length of twine and sand. In a few years he had cut all the way through. But here the metal was fresh, and they didn't have years, or twine. Or sand for that matter. It was that familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. The odds were piling up, and it was all he could do not to stand and punch at the bars until either they broke or he did. He suppressed this urge and concentrated. What could they do with magic? They couldn't freeze the bars all the way through, they couldn't heat them nearly hot enough to bend, even if they had a hammer. The only other way to breach metal was... And then, blinding insight struck Jarvis, son of Hadley. An all too familiar smile curved his lips.

"Arien!"

"What?" The response came back despondently.

"I know how to get out of here!"

***

Jörmundur walked down the prison hallway, and one of the guards flanking him closed the door behind him. The morning rays of sunlight gave way to damp, torchlight blackness, and the Varden's second in command wrinkled his nose at the odor. Traitors were a really unfortunate business, he had so hoped that Arien would turn out well. She had been one of the brightest hopes for Elf-Varden relations, and now she was in a holding cell alongside a contract killer. What a waste. He new from the moment he saw Jarvis's shifting eyes and twitching fingers that he would be no good. If they survived this war, he would have the Guild of Blades disbanded and their members imprisoned for until their bones turned to dust. The light was a little better in the holding area, as the pale light of spring morn brought with it a tantalizing breath of the outdoors, no doubt to enhance the suffering of those bound within. The two had been moved to one large cell in the corner. Jörmundur pulled a small wooden stool under him and sat. The elf woke first, and pushed herself into a sitting position. Jarvis woke a second later. Jörmundur sighed deeply and produced a sheaf of parchment.

"Arien, daughter of Eodrin, you are hereby banished from Surda and her allied territories on pain of death, pending a review of your insubordination."

Arien remained completely impassive.

"Jarvis, son of Hadley, for your crimes against the Varden and against the common man, you are hereby sentenced to hang by the neck until dead."

This time it was Jarvis's turn to be impassive. The elf, on the other hand looked outraged.

"What? Why do I get to live and he must die? We both-"

"Silence! The only reason you are not being marched out to hang next to your accomplice right this second is because you are an Elf. You do not fall under our jurisdiction, and thus, we cannot order you killed."

The lieutenant leaned in close to the cell and hissed the next words through the bars.

"But if you return to Surda, I will have my men turn you into a pale pincushion, do you understand?"

The elf stared at him, her eyes brimming with hatred. In spite of himself, Jörmundur had to suppress a shiver. Behind that face lay an unnatural creature, and he was very glad to see her go. He'd never really liked elves. As alien as a deep sea fish and deadly as a poison arrow.

Jorrmunder stood and left the room. The jailer bustled in behind him and pushed a plate of food underneath the door. He leaned over and leered at Jarvis.

"Eat up boy, tommorow you swing."

The assassin made an incredibly crude hand gesture and the man laughed and left them to their meal.

The moment the door closed, Arien whipped around and grabbed the mug of dirty water.

"Alone at last."

Jarvis snickered.

"You know, usually when a woman says that to me we're in a more comfortable sit-"

"Oh shut up!"

The elf picked at a fold of her leggings until a bare thread was exposed. She pulled it out and broke it off. She moved across the cell and placed a hand on the slim bolt that locked the barred door closed. A few words of power and the piece of metal rusted all the way to the core. She chipped a sliver of metal off, laid it carefully over the thread, and closed her palm. A faint crackling noise echoed off the walls and a dim light shone through her hand, showing the ghostly bone. When Arien opened her hand, the twine was coated in a thin layer of metal. She set to work immediately, sawing away at the rusted bar. It worked better than Jarvis had envisioned. The lock severed and the door swung open. Jarvis darted out into the corridor and up the main hall a ways. He could hear the guards laughing in another room right across from him. Quickly he snatched the sack full of their belongings and paced noiselessly back to the cell.

The elf was sawing at the last bar. Jarvis belted his blades back onto himself and slung the pack over their shoulder. They hadn't even taken the books and food back. The last bar fell out of place and the elf caught it a second before it clanged on the stone floor. Quick as lightning, they eased out of the small opening and onto the outside of the castle. The elf awkwardly grasped the ledge behind her as they both balanced on the almost non-existent windowsill.

"It looked a lot less tall from the outside..." Jarvis mumbled as he tied a length of rope onto one of the stubs of broken bar. They slid down and onto the flagstones. The assassin stopped for a few seconds to breath in the free air.

"Come. We are not out of this yet." Arien whispered

After a short climb down the battlements, they were pounding down the side streets towards the outer wall. A few children were outside playing, but the otherwise the city was silent. It was just after dawn when they reached the last row of houses. The city gates loomed before them, like a giant maw frowning down upon them.

***

Erimus cracked his knuckles absentmindedly on the edge of his sword hilt. Beside him, his partner winced.

"Gods above, I hate it when you do that!"

Erimus pushed the other hand under his chin and the fingers emitted more popping noises. The other guard shoved him playfully. After a few minutes of silence, the man groaned.

"There is no more boring an activity than guard duty. GATE guard duty too. We don't even have the benefit of a good view like those lucky bastards over in the keep."

"Too true my friend."

Footsteps perked up Erimus's ears and he saw a young woman with a shawl pulled over her head shuffling towards the gate, head down. He urgently elbowed his partner in the ribs. The other man looked up and whispered excitedly to him.

"Our luck's about to change!"

She was even more beautiful up close. The shawl was threadbare and worn, and when she handed the guard her official release paper, he could see that her arms were pale as moonlight. Obviously some aristocrat, hoping to escape the new government.

"So, what is a pretty thing like yourself doing leaving the city, hm?"

"Yeah, you should stay, we'd be awful lonely without you." The other guard chimed in, barely suppressing a laugh.

The guards failed to notice two things. The first of which was that the "official" paper that the woman had handed them was covered in meaningless scribbles. The second was a dark shadow, that had been skirting the edge of the wall towards them for almost a minute. Erimus turned at the crunch of a shoe on broken glass. An open palm caught him square in the temple and he crumpled to the ground. The other guard turned on the woman, who had whipped off the disguise, and threw a desperate blow in her direction. With almost liquid grace, the elf leaned out of the way, hooked her leg around his, and tripped him backwards into the dirt. He was scrambling for his sword when the same pale hand that had handed Erimus that papers sailed out of nowhere and hit him in the adam's apple. His body went out like an extinguished candle. Arien took Jarvis's hand and pulled herself up.

"Nice punch."

The elf spared him a brief smile before they both exited the city. By the time the guards woke up, Arien and Jarvis were a distant spec in the vast eastern hills, well on their way to Melian.


	10. Chapter 10

Arien walked brusquely along to keep in step with Jarvis, who was walking up the dirt track that terminated in a small wooden house. The elf looked around the long fields of crops once more, shading her eyes from the midday sun that beat down on them. There was not a soul in sight.

"Are you sure this is the right place? It looks empty."

Jarvis shook his head.

"No, they're all inside. It's lunchtime."

"Ah."

The assassin slowed and stopped in front of the wind-weathered door, a little horseshoe on a nail adorning the ancient wood. Arien's sensitive ears could hear laughing voices and the sound of forks clinking against pottery. Jarvis hesitated and knocked three times. The sounds died away and she heard a chair being pushed back, footsteps walking up a hall and the door opened. Jarvis's oldest brother stood before them. Arien could instantly tell they were related by the jet black hair and blue eyes that regarded them. He was built much the same. Thin, limber, lanky, but his skin was tanned from working in the fields and he stood a little shorter. He stared at Jarvis for a long moment, his face a mask of anger.

"You." he spat quietly

Jarvis remained impassive.

"Me."

"Why did you come here? I have not forgiven you, Nor will I ever!"

"Can't a long lost sibling pay his family a visit?"

"You are no brother of mine! You are a cowardly murderer."

At the sound of raised voices the rest of the family came running down the hall and crowded into the passageway, looking to see what the cause of the commotion was. Arien saw three women and another man, all of them were no older than twenty five summers, and all looked somewhat like Jarvis.

The youngest girl stepped forward into the doorway, her eyes a little wide, staring at Jarvis in disbelief.

"Jarvis? I-Is that you?"

A sad smile creased Jarvis's lips

"Ellen! You were only up to my shoulder when I left."

"Where have you been?"

"Here and there, making a living."

"At the expense of others." The older brother said

Ellen's eyes turned to Arien

"And who is she?"

"A friend. We were just passing through."

One of the women at the back spoke up

"No doubt a woman of ill-repute, your tastes haven't changed Jarvis."

"Claire! She's not-" Ellen started but the older sister silenced her with a look.

A flush of anger crept into Arien's cheeks and she swept off her cap, exposing her pointed ears. Those assembled stared in amazement. The older brother rounded on Jarvis.

"An elf? Here? How dare you bring trouble to my doorstep, the Empire could ride in here at any moment!"

"We have been discreet, there's no need to worry."

"Of course. Clever Jarvis, always finding a way around the rules he doesn't like. You show up here, after what you did to our parents? They loved you right up to the end Jarvis, what have you done to deserve that?! Did you think you could just disappear for years and years and just show up one day and just expect us to have forgotten? You never cared what our parents di-"

Arien had to step back as Jarvis blurred past her and grabbed the oldest brother by the throat, lifting him clear off of the ground and slamming him against the side of the house.

"You can curse and scream at me all you want you feckless yellow maggot, but don't ever tell me I didn't care about what happened!"

It was surprising how loud the assassin could yell, and Arien was taken aback, as were the rest of his siblings, who all took a step back except for Ellen.

"Jarvis, please, just let him go and come inside, we need to talk."

Jarvis threw the older brother to the dirt, where he lay, coughing and sputtering. The assassin turned around to face Ellen.

"No. There is no more need for talk. I can see you have made up your minds."

Jarvis turned his back to the house and began to walk away

"Jarvis! Just come back for a moment! Please, I just want to talk to you, we missed you!"

Ellen seemed on the verge of tears. Jarvis's walk turned into a sprint and he was off down the dirt lane. Arien looked at the family once more, the older brother picking himself off of the ground, the three sisters standing in the doorway, the younger brother looking out balefully at nothing in particular and Ellen, her lower lip trembling, watching her older brother get smaller and smaller.

"You should go after him."

Arien nodded and turned to follow, but a hand laid on her shoulder and she looked back. It was Ellen.

"Keep him safe, and... Come back, someday."

The elf looked briefly into her eyes and then sprinted after Jarvis.

***

After a long run Arien caught up with Jarvis outside of an Inn, smoking his pipe. She approached cautiously, but Jarvis's face was a mask of stone and betrayed no emotion.

"Come, we should get a room for the night. And I need a drink."

"I don't blame you. What was that all about? Why were they angry?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Not right now. Lets just get a place to sleep. I'll tell you once we leave."

Together they stepped into the bar and sat down at a table in the corner. The barkeep sidled up and greeted them.

"Good afternoon! What can I-"

He paused a moment and looked at the assassin

"Jarvis?"

Jarvis didn't even flinch.

"Who?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have had you mistaken, my apologies!"

Jarvis put on a forced smile.

"Anyway, what can I get you?"

"A mug of mead if you have it."

"Sorry, we don't serve that anymore, grain rations and all."

"Oh, well, something strong then."

"An ale perhaps?"

"Sounds perfect."

The rather rotund barman whisked away twirling his moustache and returned with a mug of amber liquid.

"And for mi'lady?"

Arien smiled graciously

"Nothing thank you."

Human brewed alcohol had never sat well with her, and she wasn't one to enjoy being drunk, not after all the pathetic individuals she had seen intoxicated. The barman returned to his post. An old man sitting at the counter started up conversation that carried over to their table despite the low hum of talking.

"Someone you know Amsden?"

"Oh nothing, I just had someone confused is all."

"I see. Who with?"

"Oh, there was a young boy around here about, say, fifteen years back. He was a nice lad, always quick to help around the bar here, but he got into some trouble and no one's seen him for ages. Might be dead, but something tells me otherwise."

"What'd he do?"

The barkeep began polishing the counter with a clean rag

"Well, he got involved with some queer folk from out of town, this, this "Guild of Blades"."

"Ah, hired ruffians no doubt, I know the type."

"Yeah, except these ones were worse. They had their hands in, well, killing. You could have another man wake up dead if you had enough gold about you. Anyway, Jarvis started hanging around with them, and one day a rider came into town from Uru-Baen, says that Jarvis is involved in the death of some earl's son over in that mansion on the hill. Well they tore up the place looking for him, but he was long gone, fled over west to Feinster probably or maybe even Surda till the heat wore off."

"Bet that didn't sit well with the Empire."

"No it did not. They got so mad in fact, that they came over to his farm, and rode off with his parents. We haven't seen them since, and none of the soldiers would talk to us about it, so they're most likely dead."

The old man shook his head.

"What a shame, what a damn shame."

Arien looked across at Jarvis. His face was still impassive, but his fist was white around the handle of his mug.

"Yeah, poor kid came back a month or so later thinkin' he had put one over on them, and low and behold, he comes back to his farm to find out that the oldest person there is his brother."

"How did he take it?"

The barkeep stopped polishing the wood and looked pensively down at the rag.

"Harder than you can imagine. He came in here once, after the rest of his brothers and sisters wouldn't let him stay and... and... Well, he was just tore up good, let me put it that way. Left the next day and no one's seen him since."

Little waves slopped against the sides of the mug as Jarvis's hand shook. Without changing expression he stood and walked over to the barman.

"Can I get a room for the night?"

"Sure can. It's two and twenty."

Jarvis reached into his pocket and laid twenty five coins on the table.

"I'll have another mug of that ale."

Silently, the barkeep filled another mug and passed it to him over the counter.

"Just make sure you bring the mugs back in one piece alright?"

The assassin nodded and ascended the stairs. Arien paused for a moment and then got up from the table and followed him. When she got to the room, Jarvis was already sitting in a corner, his pipe lit, looking out the window. Arien was at a loss for words.

"Jarvis, I-"

His voice came out a little hoarse

"You can take the bed."

Arien walked over and sat next to him. Quietly she whispered in his ear.

"It's big enough for two people."

Slowly she took his hands, pulled him upright, and led him over to the bed. She pushed him down onto the mattress and removed her hat, letting her pointed ears and long brown hair free. She joined Jarvis on the bed and pulled the tunic over his head, throwing it into a corner. Their lips met and Arien closed her eyes as his hands slowly pulled the robe from her shoulders.

***

Arien opened her eyes and looked around. It was still dark, and Jarvis was no longer lying in bed. Almost every human Arien had known needed eight hours of sleep, so it was unusual for one of them to be up this early. Blearily she turned over and spotted Jarvis. The assassin was sitting on a small table near the window, clad only in a pair of breaches, two mugs previously full of ale now lying on the floor next to him. Occasionally his pipe would glow in the darkness and light up his face. He looked haggard, years older than he was. His eyes were red rimmed and she swore she could see tears glinting on the edge of his face. It was a windless night, and he had opened the shutters to let the moonlight in. Quietly she got up from the bed and put on her traveling robe. Jarvis said nothing as the elf seated herself on the desk next to him and lay her head on his shoulder.

"They still love you Jarvis, no matter what happens they are your family, and no amount of words or bad blood can change that."

Jarvis wiped the tears from his face and blew out a fragrant stream of pipe smoke that curled its way slowly out the window.

"I just-"

He paused for a moment

"I just thought that, somehow, there was a chance that when I came back everything would be okay. It was foolish and I am paying for false hopes."

"Ellen doesn't hate you."

"Ellen doesn't know me."

"Nonsense she's your sister."

"My youngest sister. I spent most of my time in the fields with my brothers or helping in the kitchen with my older sisters. We never really talked, there was too much work to be done."

"Regardless, she doesn't hate you."

"Does it matter? My parents are dead because of me. They have the right to hate me. All of them, her included. The fact that she doesn't just means-"

Jarvis fell silent and squinted against the tears, but they came anyway, rolling down his cheeks and curling under his chin. Arien put her arm over his shoulder.

"You're a good man Jarvis."

"And how do you figure that? I shouldn't have gone. I kill for money, I ended my own parents in a dungeon somewhere to die... There isn't a word in this or any language for me."

"Go back to bed and sleep off the ale. You'll feel better in the morning, I promise."

Jarvis slid off the desk and put out his pipe with a thumb.

"Yes, but do I deserve to?"

Arien did not answer. It took Jarvis only seconds to fall asleep, the soporific effect of the alcohol dragging him deep into private dreams. The elf remained perched on the desk like a cat, dressed only in a cloak, watching the sun rise over the horizon.


	11. Chapter 11

(A/N: Shout out to **actforhim** for lighting the fire under my butt on this chapter. Someone likes my soppy fan stories! Yes, delicious fulfillment, it nourishes me! *cough* I mean, eh, thanks man.)

Jarvis shaded his eyes from the sun and stared out over the landscape at a group of black dots in the distance. Massive sand dunes towered before them, casting their own shadows in the blistering heat. The unlikely pair had reached the Hadarac Desert a fortnight ago and things had gone from bad to worse. The pack mule that they had bought with all the gold they had left had collapsed dead a few leagues back. Jarvis could still hear the vultures crowing. His elfin companion had immediately packed the books and scrolls they were carrying into her own pack. He still marveled at exactly how much she could carry without showing any visible signs of strain, while Jarvis felt like his legs could have been used as stone pillars at this point.

And despite all this, fate had conspired with all the crueler elements of nature to throw them in an even worse predicament. The shapes on the horizon had turned into men on horseback with weapons, and they were now galloping full speed towards them The assassin drew his cloak tighter around him and sighed.

"I suppose it's too much to ask that these be Imperial horsemen." He remarked dryly, although deep down in his chest there was a twinge of fear. Bandits were bad news, everybody knew that.

"They shall not touch any of my things, I swear that much to you." Arien said

"Let's just see what they want." Jarvis replied. And more quietly, to himself he muttered "I hope our heads aren't on the list..."

"They may very well be." Arien said, surprising him with her unnatural hearing for the umpteenth time.

The procession took several minutes to get down to where they stood at the base of the mighty dune. They carried no standard, and were dressed in the light cotton robes of the desert folk. Each one carried a spear, which were soon pointed at them both, as the group of men surrounded them effortlessly. There was a tense silence, with much stomping of hooves. Jarvis instinctively reached for his sword, but Arien's smooth palm snaked out and caught his hand.

"It's too late for that."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jarvis could see some of the riders parting to give room to another steed. He turned and beheld a pale grey horse pushing it's way solemnly through the crowd. On it's back sat an elderly man with a long beard. Despite his age, his hands did not shake even one finger as he grasped the haft of his spear and placed it's broad leaf-shaped blade under Jarvis's chin. When he spoke, it was in a deep, commanding voice.

"Who are you that dare trespass upon my lands, that have been handed down since the making of the world? Name yourselves!"

Jarvis opened his mouth to tell the man exactly what he thought of his land and which orifices of his body into which he should stuff it, when Arien cut across him.

"Please sir, we are but scholars, trying to reach my home in the great forest away north!"

It was not entirely a lie. They had indeed been making for Arien's childhood home of Ceris, the great Elvin city hidden on the banks of the Edda River. If anything however, this seemed to make the man even more serious.

"Du Weldenvarden, you say? Humans are one thing, but Elves..."

He moved the spear so it's tip was now resting on Arien 's throat

"...that is another matter entirely."

Unable to stand it any longer, Jarvis reached out and grabbed the spear just behind it's head and wrenched it away.

"If you're going to threaten anyone, threaten me!"

There was an immediate uproar at this and he could feel, with some trepidation, hard and sharp pieces of metal prodding his back. The old man however, looked triumphant.

"So, you challenge me, do you, young man, over this elf? These truly are strange times."

"Challenge? Wha?" Jarvis sputtered as the spear was yanked out of his hand. The old man passed the weapon to a comrade and drew a long curved sword. Jarvis had seen these before, but only in the Empire's treasure troves. They were called scimitars, and their inventor had one thing in mind when he created them: beheading. Another scimitar was thrown to him and it landed at his feet. With slightly trembling hands he picked it up as the circle widened to allow the combatants some room.

Never in all his travels had Jarvis heard of this particular local custom, but it was for this very reason that he avoided these parts. They were as feral as an unbroken wolf.

He heard Arien yell in protest and turned to see four bandits struggling to restrain her. She thrashed like an eel, fine muscle and sinew straining as she punched and kicked every square inch of them she could reach. Then a black cloth strip was tied around her mouth and Jarvis lost sight of her behind a forest of horse legs as she was dragged away.

Turning back to his opponent, he saw the old man standing there, a wicked smile on his face. This was probably the highlight of his day. The man raised his sword, bowed and ran at Jarvis with surprising speed.

The ring of steel penetrated the silence as the combat was joined. The bandit was a peerless swordsman, Jarvis could already tell. Even as he tried to shift him onto the defensive, his opponent deftly deflected his blows and kept the assassin close to the edge of his reach at all times. _He is toying with me_ Jarvis thought with a pang.

One and two, and one and two again the fighters met in the center of the ring. Jarvis had a slight advantage in strength, which he pressed whenever the old man got too confident, bending his wrinkled arm back as far as he could before leaping back to dodge another flurry of slashes.

He was one second too slow, and the wicked blade carved a dancing pattern on his stomach. He recoiled and cried out, pressing a hand to his wound. It was a superficial cut, he knew, but any more pressure and it would have separated muscle from bone. Either way, the fight was coming to a close, and as he desperately parried, Jarvis cast around franticly for ideas.

Then he realized that, for once in his life, he had no out. No clever solution would save him from these merciless horsemen and their leader. He would die out here in the sand and vultures would eat him.

* * *

_I promised my sister I would visit her someday, and now I will never get the chance _He thought miserably. As the image of his youngest sibling floated across his mind, something stirred inside him.

At first, he thought it was just his stomach wound, giving him more pain as he flexed to defend himself. But then he realized that the feeling was all through him, like a wonderful, joyous energy, a waterfall of power. He glanced down and was shocked to see his fingertips glowing ever so slightly.

Jarvis would look back on this moment in later times and wonder exactly how he knew what to do next. With his right hand he batted the old man's sword tip into the sand and pressed a hard boot down on it, trapping it. The left hand he placed graciously, almost lovingly on his forehead. The effect was instant. A spider web of white streaked out in all directions across the man's skin, freezing each wrinkle like a valley in the midst of a great storm. Only a few seconds later the effect had consumed him, and a pale white statue of a bandit, eyes still wide and mouth still open in shock, stood before them.

There was utter silence. Jarvis moved his boot heel away from the scimitar and the now solid man crashed face first into the sand. The other riders stared at him agape, and then started shouting. There was a cacophony of noise as every single one of the bandits wheeled their stallions around and rode away at top speed.

Jarvis suddenly felt weaker than he'd ever felt in his life. He fell to his knees, the pitted scimitar dropping from his slack fingers. A firm pair of arms caught him before he hit the ground and turned him over. Arien's pale face appeared in his field of vision, haloed by the sun.

"How did you do that?" She demanded

Jarvis shook his head

"I don't- I have no idea, I just put out my hand and..."

"And he turned to glass! Look!"

The elf turned and snapped off the Bandit's nose, shaking it in Jarvis's face like it was an omen.

"You did not tell me you knew how to perform magic."

"That was magic?" Jarvis asked, amazed.

He had heard of some human beings with magical abilities, and had dealt with it on more than his fair share of occasions, not least of which being the elf that now stood over him, but he had never envisaged himself as having any talent whatsoever. X grasped his hand and hoisted him up.

"I feel like a boned fish..." Jarvis groaned

"That is normal. Your body has not been trained and so even the slightest magical exertion drains you. It will pass."

"Then we should get over that dune and make camp. I don't think I can go any further today, and this wound needs to be bandaged."

Thought the night was warm enough, spent in each other's arms, but the morning was not nearly so forgiving. Windblown sand buffeted them in an almost horizontal direction, stinging exposed skin and resisting every footstep forward. Jarvis had lost count of the number of dunes they had walked over. Each one seemed longer than the last one, and even the elf was showing signs of weariness.

"We need to find shelter soon!" He shouted above the gale, but his voice was whipped away by the wind.

They continued, making sure to walk in a straight line so as not to loose their direction, whichever direction that was. Eventually the assassin was simply staring at his shoes, counting one step after another, focusing all his effort on simply putting one foot in front of the other. It was because of this that he did not see the wall until he walked smack into it.

He saw Arien cover her smile and hastily pulled himself up so as not to look a fool in front of her. It was a fairly tall wall, in good repair, made of mud bricks left to dry in the sun. It was at least twice as tall as Jarvis, and although he had scaled taller walls with Arien, he didn't feel like this was the place to push his luck.

They skirted the wall for a few hundred more paces until a gate materialized from the gloom, seemingly unguarded. Jarvis rapped the large wooden door several times with an ancient metal knocker and a slat pulled back.

"What do yew want?" A gruff voice demanded from the other side.

"Please just let us in, we need to get out of the storm!" Jarvis shouted over the howling wind

The eye regarded them critically, as if sizing them up, and then the slit shut again and the gate opened just wide enough to admit them.

"Get in then, get in!"

They both slid through the crack and emerged into an arched stone entranceway. The man who had just admitted them strained to close the door against the wind, turning his back to them and revealing an insignia of a red fist on a background of flames emblazoned on his tunic. Jarvis twitched slightly and threw Arien a look. The elf pulled her woolen cap farther over her conspicuously non-human ears.

Jarvis had no inkling that there would be Imperial troops all the way out in this remote corner of civilization, but apparently times had changed. The streets were almost completely deserted, no more than sand blown corridors of tan brick. Unwilling to stay out in the gale any longer, Jarvis led them to a large two story building with a sign that read in faded runes: The Sandy Camel.

The inside was remarkably clean, if a little deserted. The barman could be seen behind the counter sitting on an oaken stool, fast asleep, the filthy cleaning rag that was so ubiquitous of bartenders everywhere clenched in one hammy hand. The grizzled regulars, mostly farmers and soldiers, paid them no heed as they stole off to a quiet table in the corner.

Arien reached into her pack and unfurled the map. She stared at it pensively for a moment, resting her chin on her hand.

"I believe we are here. This is the only settlement anywhere near where we set out, but it's too small to be on the map."

"We will need to find a place to stay the night, and acquire more food and water." Jarvis said.

"I will talk with the barman about lodging."

Jarvis grinned and glanced over at the still catatonic man.

"If he ever wakes up."

* * *

As Jarvis strolled down the main avenue, he marveled at the villagers efficiency. Only a few hours before the whole place could have passed for a ghost town, and now it looked just like any other marketplace in the Empire. Dozens of stalls had been erected, selling everything a man stranded in a remote place such as this could ever want or need.

He briefly entertained himself with a display of ceremonial knives, but was shoed away by the fat merchant when he realized he was not going to buy anything. He perused the other stalls, turning over a fruit in his hands, but his thoughts were a thousand miles away. So much had happened over the past few days, he felt like his whole world had been put in a bottle and shaken vigorously.

The sudden manifestation of magic in the desert had set his head buzzing with questions, which he had plied Arien with many times. She had politely refused to tell him anything more about it, simply saying that he should be taught by a proper teacher when they reached Du Weldenvarden. Despite the heat he shivered and rubbed his fingertips where the magic had seeped through.

Arien was a question in and of herself. Although the past few days had been intimate enough, Jarvis hadn't read anywhere of any elf and human marriages, although admittedly he hadn't been near a library in years, except on business. Some nights, when the elf went off to gather firewood or conjure up water from the sand, worrying thoughts crossed his mind. What would they do when they reached Ceris? Their being together would probably not go down smoothly with her family, and Jarvis didn't even like to think about having to make her choose between her family and him.

"Are you going to buy that, or just stare at it?"

Jarvis was jerked forcibly out of his reverie by the young woman working the stall. He looked at her for a second, puzzled, and then realized he was still holding the fruit.

"Sorry..."

The woman smiled and shook her head.

"Don't worry about it. So, you want to buy it?"

"Sure, how much?" Jarvis asked

"One gold each."

Jarvis laid a coin on the counter and flicked it across to her. Pocketing the fruit, he walked away from the stall and shook himself. There would be time for daydreaming later, now he had to focus. After extracting as much water as he could carry from the well he bought a few loaves of bread and wrapped them tightly in linen to preserve them, although with the air this dry it was hardly a problem.

Jarvis was just about to turn and leave for the inn when he felt a hand reaching gently into his pocket. A small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. Honestly, the nerve of pickpockets...

With one clean movement he drew a dagger from his belt, whipped around, and grabbed what turned out to be a young boy by the wrist. The child was only a few years away from manhood, but thin and a little sickly looking. Jarvis could tell he was not a thief simply because it amused him.

"You know, you ought to chose your marks with more care. Another second and I could part you with that hand."

"Oh please don't sir, I was just, just-"

Before the child could finish Jarvis put away the dagger, reached into his pocket and produced a coin. He thrust it into the boys hand and released him. The would-be pickpocket looked stunned.

"Next time don't try and take money from someone wearing breeches, they can feel it every time." Jarvis said and winked

The youth speed off, probably to buy a much needed loaf of bread, and Jarvis continued on to the inn, feeling, for some reason, much lighter.

(Stay tuned chillins, I'm a lazy bastard, but I will write more if people are interested. You can express that interest by scrolling down and clicking on the review button and telling me what you think, even if you think it was the biggest plate of tripe you've ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. I even proofread this one for you, aren't I nice?)


	12. Chapter 12

(Here is the new chapter, now with beta support from Luthien Snowtail! Got another section of plot all sketched out, so updates should be sometime within the next half month, but as you know the fall semester looms and I have to devote more time to studying. College bites sometimes.)

The dawn was several hours away and night was reluctantly relinquishing its grasp on the desert sands when Arien and Jarvis slipped away quietly from the eastern gate of the settlement. The assassin was in a fine mood. He enjoyed mornings; it didn't matter where you were, being awake before the sun had broken the horizon was a special feeling… like you were getting a jump on the day, taking it by surprise. Arien walked along beside him, her steps a little faster to keep up with his long strides. She watched him out of the corner of her eye with interest and vague amusement. He was an odd individual, no doubt, even for a human. To any outside observer he merely appeared as a young traveler or merchant. His feet moved with a purpose, and his lanky, slightly unkempt appearance belied a subtle grace that Arien found... intoxicating.

They worked their way through the sand in silence, both deep in their own thoughts. In the distance Arien could see peaks on the horizon, a dull and dusty tan, almost the same color as the desert. She would have mistaken them for more sand dunes if they were not so sharp. The weather, while being incredibly hot and dry, was actually quite nice. The wind was in the west, and it blew pleasantly on their backs, providing some respite from the brutal rays of the sun.

Jarvis was walking a few feet ahead of her as they reached the top of a sand dune. Without warning he threw out his hand.

"Wait!" he hissed.

"What is it?" Arien asked in a whisper.

Slowly Jarvis ducked back below the ridge and lay on his back.

"Imperial convoy."

Arien peeked above the lip of the dune and saw the foothills of the mountains they had seen earlier in the day. The valleys were packed with tents, which easily numbered in the hundreds. Men bearing the emblem of the empire bustled between the canvas walls, carrying crates of supplies which were being loaded onto horse drawn carts.

"It's an army! How in hellfire did Galbatorix get that many men all the way out here?" Arien asked, her voice a little hoarse.

Jarvis sighed and briefly rolled his eyes.

"Just my bloody luck too. It's worse than that, Look at the standards. It's the same one as the soldiers in the town we just left. The Desert Expeditionary Force."

"You know them?" The elf queried, surprised.

Jarvis grinned sheepishly;

"I might have had a brush with them the last time I was out this direction. We don't have fond memories of each other."

He looked back at the assembling forces below and his expression sobered.

"But this is something new. The last time I was here was almost five summers ago, and they were just peace officers and law keepers then. The empire must have militarized them. As to what they're doing out here; I'm afraid I can guess that fairly accurately. Look at the supply train. The lead carts are already moving straight east, and there is only one thing in that direction that interests Galbatorix."

Arien's eyes widened in horror;

"Du Weldenvarden! We have to warn my kin!"

Jarvis nodded;

"Yes, we do. I am fairly certain we can outrun the convoy if we skirt around them to the south, but we're going to have to start making better time."

Arien backed away from the sand dune and grabbed Jarvis's arm.

"Let's go then, we haven't any time to waste watching!"

**POST NOTE- Insert Horizontal Line Here Before Publishing**

The next week was one long, sandy blur in Jarvis's mind. Spurred on by the elf, they made ground at an alarming rate, and the leagues flew by. The convoy, only able to move at the pace of their slowest participant, had long since shrunk to a dot on the horizon and vanished.

The crossed a mountain pass on the eighth day, and from that high perch Jarvis could look out and see the vibrant green sea of the forest beyond. Du Weldenvarden was massive. Enormous. Immense. Words failed him when he attempted to describe it. The small arm of the forest you could see on the map, which sheltered Ceris and the other cities, was in reality a sprawling ocean of foliage that extended as far as they could see. Arien would not let him rest for long however, and they were soon off again, down the talus slope, feet scrabbling for purchase on the broken shale.

As they descended, the ground began to yield grass. At first there were only lone, solitary patches, little islands, their leaves still covered in the layer of fine sand. But more and more the Hadarac gave way, and the weather got colder. At last they reached the great rolling plains before the forest. Jarvis felt that after so many days of travel, he could almost reach out and touch the trees. The camped in the shelter of a hillock and laid their packs down. Although they were both exhausted, sleep did not come easy to him. A cool breeze swept over the landscape, making gentle waves in the grass and carrying with it the woody smell of trees.

The next morning dawned bright and early for Jarvis, yet Arien was already awake and eager to leave. As they approached the outer edge of the forest, Jarvis got a distinct sense of unease. Despite the seemingly peaceful day, he could not shake the sense that they were being watched. Arien seemed unperturbed when he mentioned this to her.

"We probably are being watched. Do you honestly think that my kin would not closely watch their borders in such times? We have always liked our privacy."

His suspicions were proven correct when they were passing through a small clearing. At the sound of tightening bowstrings, Jarvis drew his short sword and threw out a hand to stop Arien. Whirling around, he found that they were surrounded by a group of six or so archers. There was a tense silence, and then a young male elf stepped forward and said something in elvish that Jarvis could not parse.

Arien, however, seemed to understand perfectly;

"You must forgive my companion; he is as skittish as a doe."

The archers lowered their bows and emerged from the brush to greet them, but did not stop watching Jarvis. The assassin could detect a mixture of scorn and disapproval in some of their gazes. Apparently a human was not a welcome sight in their forest.

After the first elf and Arien embraced, they began conversing rapidly in elvish. Jarvis sheathed his sword and sat down on a stump. Some time later the two broke apart, and Arien turned back to Jarvis.

"This is my traveling companion, Jarvis, son of Hadley. He has been a great help and I could not have come this far, or indeed, come at all, without him. Jarvis, this is Finarel, a childhood friend."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Jarvis replied politely. His hand however, did not stray from his belt.

"Alas, my friend, we bring grave news from the Hadarac. We have seen a great host massed in the desert, and they march ever eastwards. I think they mean to make war upon Queen Islanzadí's eastern border." Arien cut across the awkwardness.

Finarel nodded gravely;

"We are already well aware of Galbatorix's plans. It is fortuitous that you are both skilled with the blade, as we shall need every available being to combat the darkness that is marshaled against us."

Changing tack, the elf turned to Jarvis;

"Before you go any further, we must search your mind to ensure you are not an enemy agent."

Jarvis had heard of this procedure before many time, both through word of mouth and personal experience. He recalled being incarcerated in the Imperial Dungeons just south of Uru'Baen, where the jailors sifted through prisoner's minds not for information, but for the simple pleasure of robbing them of any privacy. Men had gone insane, and Jarvis swore he almost had too, but with a swift and timely bribe from the Guild of Blades he was released.

Now that he thought about it, he was very reluctant to allow a stranger to sift through his head like it was a drawer. He felt Finarel's mind reach out and touch his, and cried out in shock. It was like holding a chunk of ice in his hands. The cold presence began to flick through his memories, one after another, beginning with his childhood.

The images went faster and faster, flitting before his mind's eye so fast he could not focus on any one. The images began to get more and more violent. An Earl lay dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood. A corrupt civil servant. A doctor. The harsh laugh of his guild master echoed inside the confines of his head. The section of memories containing Arien, including his capture and eventual freedom snapped by like a taught rope, and he reflected on how short a time it had been since he was sitting on a straw mat and trading snide barbs with the jailors, waiting for his turn to put on the hangman's rope.

The contact was severed just as suddenly as it had been initiated. Jarvis grasped his temples and groaned. He felt like a bone that had just been picked clean. Looking up, he saw Finarel. The elf was not moving, rather, he was staring at Jarvis with a look of mingled fear and disgust. There was a long, uncomfortable silence, which the assassin eventually broke.

"You may not care for my profession, but I am no spy."

"I would caution the Lady Nasuada not to rely overmuch on your kind, lest she become the very monster she is trying to destroy," Finarel said tonelessly. "Come. Monster you may be, but you are not a spy, and so I cannot see any reason to bar you entry."

The male elf seemed to have regained his composure, although Jarvis could feel his comrade's eyes on the back of his neck and see Arien shooting him inquisitive looks out of the corner of his eye.

They progressed deeper into the forest, the trees getting slowly larger and more numerous. The elves did not tire and Jarvis did not want to cause any more trouble than he already had, so he did not complain when they did not stop for lunch. It was mid-afternoon when the first few houses of Ília Fëon came into view.

They continued further and discovered paths of beautifully manicured grass cutting a natural path. Houses were either suspended in the branches of the majestic oaks or nestled away in the roots. The first thing that struck Jarvis was the lack of people on the street. Here and there an elf played an instrument or conversed with friends, but on the whole it was very quiet.

They were lead to an empty abode, tucked up in one of the larger trees. It was actually very pleasant; the interior was much roomier than it looked on the outside. Two cots were laid out for them in the back, but in the end Arien simply climbed into Jarvis's and pulled the covers over herself with a laugh. The assassin sighed contentedly and they lay in silence for a few moments, the last light of the sun leaving the night sky.

"Jarvis?" The elf called sleepily.

"What?"

"What did Finarel see inside your mind? I haven't seen him like that in... a long time."

Jarvis bit his lower lip pensively;

"You know what I did before." 

"Yes, but you never talk about it."

"Does it bother you?" Jarvis asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

"Maybe. A little. I cannot understand why, though."

"Why what?" He pressed.

"Why you would... kill, for money. Surely there were other ways of making money."

"Before I met you, I was a less likable person. I felt... lost. Like I didn't know which way was north. After my parents were taken, I just didn't care what was asked of me. I didn't think about who I was hurting, or how badly."

There was another long pause, and then Arien asked: "How did you end up in that jail cell anyways?"

"I hesitated."

"You what?"

"I was looking into his eyes, about to strike the fatal blow, and my hand froze. I don't know what it was, but the look of utter terror on his face just took my breath away. I had never seen that before. I was asked to do the job with a knife, the person who took out the contract was particularly angry at him, and so I could not use poison, as I often did."

"But- you were imprisoned for murder, so..."

"I did murder him. Right as the guards rushed into the room as it happens. I leapt out the window and fell two stories. There were more men waiting at the bottom and they bound my hands behind me."

For a moment, the only sound was that of the insects chirping outside their door.

"I can still see them sometimes. Their faces. I'll be carving a piece of wood, or washing my hands, and I'll see their face." Jarvis murmured.

Arien draped a long slender arm over his shoulder.

"You should get some sleep. We have a long road ahead of us."


	13. Chapter 13

(A/N: Now that the 4th book is out I've decided to finish this story up and not leave it hanging. Rate and review as always.)

The whole thing looked like a painting, or perhaps a fairth. Golden sunlight streamed down between the trees and fell upon the mossy forest floor. They had left the road, if there had ever really been one, and were traveling through the undergrowth. The lead elf always seemed to find a way through, no matter how thickly clustered the trees were. It was beautiful, and no mistake, but something about it unnerved Jarvis. They had not seen another living thing besides themselves since they entered the wood the day before, animal or otherwise. He got the distinct impression that the forest was watching him, and he craned his neck around for the umpteenth time, but there was nothing.

If Arien had set a brusque pace, Faelin set an even faster one. They had left Ilia Feon before dawn, and Jarvis found that try as he might to remember the details of the elven citadel, he was unable. The moment he pinned something down it would slip away. It was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. The experience disturbed him. He had no doubt it was an enchantment of some kind, likely to ensure that he could not share what he had seen with the enemy. He only wished he had been alerted to it beforehand, and felt slighted that they did not trust him. The number of elves they were with had increased to thirty six, and now all were armed with short swords and wore curiasses and greaves of a curious substance. It almost appeared to be a dark, milky-golden marble, but it gave no gleam, and most of the unit had applied an uneven pattern of stripes and splotches in light green pigment to break up their outline and camouflage themselves.

Time was another difficult thing to divine. The angle and hue of the sun were obscured by the trees, so that he found himself counting the seconds, perhaps to make sure that time was passing at all. For some reason, the idea that it had stopped did not seem so farfetched in a place such as this. At that moment, a doe hopped out of the brush and stood directly over their trail, bobtail twitching slightly. It did not seem alarmed at their presence in the slightest, but rather looked the lead elf straight in the eye and stared unblinkingly for a full ten seconds before turning and continuing on its way. The lead elf turned back to Faelin, and they talked in low whispers that Jarvis could not hear.

"What's going on? Is something wrong?" Jarvis asked Arien quietly

"The village where I live lies inside the old growth. Old though we are, elves are not the only keepers of these woods. We must assuage their unease before we can enter." She replied

Jarvis wanted to ask who and what they were assuaging, but he suddenly felt like he should keep his voice down. He felt now more than ever that he was being watched. At last they began moving again, and Jarvis could see a difference in the trees around them. Their color began to change from the smooth deciduous to a rougher, redder texture. The trunks of these trees were truly massive, so that ten men would be unable to encircle one. At a separation between two mighty trees, they stopped again. The roots of these trees were so large that they had warped the ground underneath them, making small hillocks in the densely packed foliage. Jarvis suddenly realized that it was very quiet. The birdsong had died away without him noticing. Even the elves looked tense, which worried him greatly.

Then, something stepped into the gateway between the two trees. It looked vaguely like a woman, but instead of skin a rough bark made up the outlines of her body. In the place where a woman's eyes should have been there were two orbs of light, the same golden color as the light that filtered through the branches, yet amplified several times. Despite the uniformity of its eye, Jarvis could tell exactly where it was looking, and that was at him.

He felt something strange move across his thoughts and it made him shiver. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind and a strange, tuneless music echoed somewhere in his mind. Then the being turned its gaze away and the feeling passed.

"Did it say anything to you?" Arien whispered.

"No, what is it?"

"A spriggan. Spirits that have accepted bodies from the forest, in return for their service. They guard the old growth. They shepard the wild ones."

Faelin and the spriggan stared at each other for a long time, neither uttering a word. Finally the creature tilted its head back and sang a single word to the silent air. It reverberated in the upper reaches of the canopy and sent a pair of squirrels skittering across the branches above them. Then the spirit turned and walked into one of the trees. It seemed to absorb it entirely without resistance, and the glowing light vanished. Faelin looked back at the rest of the group, as if he was ensuring they were all still present.

Then the column formed up and they moved out again, over the invisible threshold, and deeper into the forest. A bit further on there was a stream, which they crossed, and beyond the stand of trees that clustered along its banks, Jarvis spotted the first signs of habitation. The thick foliage overhead gave way to a glade of nine larger trees, which rested at the bottom of a shallow depression in the land. The weeds and vegetation were trimmed, so that paths ventured this way and that over and between the massive tangle of roots beneath. He could see other structures that seemed to be a part of the tree itself, bridges between trunks and houses, staircases that spiraled up through the branches to the top. He could also see a few elves on the paths, some sitting in groups and talking in lilting voices that sounded almost like music. One was playing an instrument, and its sound enchanted Jarvis, momentarily distracting him from all else. The player stopped as they approached and there were merry voices as the elven soldiers greeted their kin.

* * *

Vidaliah's slender fingernails beat a rhythm on the railing of the balcony. Her aide stood beside her, reading from a sheet of parchment. She knew it was important, but she was unusually distracted. She stared out towards the edge of the north tree, where the troops from Ilia Feon were slowly making their way towards her hall.

"-has managed to captured Arroughs. They intend to march on Dras-Leona within a fortnight. The Empire still hasn't withdrawn it's troops from our southern frontier. Iszlandi will call for our aide any day now to defend Ilia Feon. ...My lady?"

The question stirred her from her reverie.

"Let us postpone our stratagems until Faelin's company arrives. He will want to be a part of any decisions we make."

"As you wish." The aide replied and retreated back into the doorway and down the steps.

Vidaliah staid, and watched the procession draw closer. Her heart made a funny lurch when she spotted Arien. Though she had seen her little girl grow into a woman, it was a hollow experience seen through various two-way mirrors and scrying. The thought of actually being able to physically touch her daughter sent an uncharacteristic tingle up her spine. She was anxious. What would she say, after a childhood apart, raised mostly in human hands? They were allies, of course, of noble birth themselves, but they were still only human, and manners was but a small part of being royalty.

A single human accompanied them. A worn traveling cloak was clasped about his shoulders. His features were lean and purposeful, and underneath his flinty brows lay two intensely blue eyes. She shut her eyes and reached out to him. His mind resembled a pool of water that had been shaken up. Currents moved thick and fast through it, whipping up silt from the bottom and obscuring it's contents. The more she tried to move beyond the surface, the less she could see. She withdrew, not wanting to alert him to her presence. He was an odd specimen to be sure. She had, of course, been expecting them both. Faelin had scryed her immediately, and Vidaliah had been incredulous, but it was true. Her daughter was back, appearing out of the Hadarac like a phantom, along with some human named Jarvis.

She rolled the name around on her tongue. It was a typical human moniker, and carried none of the power that an elven name did. With a small sigh she stood and made her way down the spiral staircase to her inner chambers.

* * *

Jarvis and Arien sat on the gently curving wooden benches, waiting. Faelin had disappeared inside, and the rest of the elves had dispersed, leaving the two of them alone with the statue-like guards at the door and their own thoughts. He had been shown the barracks, a longhouse suspended in midair between two of the towering trees. Everything seemed organic, as though it had simply grown that way, including the elf-made structures and even the benches they sat on. When he had asked Arien about this she gave a rather distracted answer that they were sung into their final shapes, a statement which Jarvis could not make hide nor tail of, but, he assumed, probably had something to do with magic.

Magic. The places was bursting at the gills with it. Ever since his surprising display in the Hadarac, Jarvis had been able to feel its presence, shifting the pillars of the world in ways obvious and subtle. This sense had only become apparent when they had entered the forest. Here the air tingled with the potential energy of ancient words and oaths, some long forgotten. It was a feeling that put him ill at ease, and being surrounded by the strange minds of elves constantly, hearing that haunting melody whose tune he couldn't quite capture, was not doing him any favors.

At last the guards moved aside, the doors swung to, and Faelin reappeared. He was frowning slightly, and there were small shadows forming underneath his usually bright eyes.

"She is waiting for you."

Arien stood, and Jarvis joined her. Together they walked through the double doors, which shut behind them with a soft thud. Vidaliah sat upon an ornately carved (or sung, rather) wooden chair. Instead of a crown, a garland of unobtrusive flowers capped her flowing hair. His first impression was that she bore a striking resemblance to Arien, save for the deeper cut of the lines upon her face, and the cold, calculating way her eyes regarded them. She had the characteristic grace and beauty of the elves, but also an icy curtness about her, the way her eyes slashed over you demanded a prompt answer. These same cold eyes swept briefly over Jaris before alighting upon Arien. She smiled a genuinely pretty smile and stood, crossing the room in a second and embracing her.

"Arien, my dear daughter, it has been too long."

Arien said nothing, but returned the embrace. Jarvis saw her eyes swim behind a film of tears, but none spilled onto her cheeks. They broke apart and Vidaliah's eyes grew cold once again as she addressed him.

"And you, Jarvis, son of Hadley, what strange fate brings both you and my daughter to this hold? It is not our custom to allow humans this far into Du Weldenvarden."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arien open her mouth, but he spoke first. He had one chance to make a superior impression.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin. Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr. Un du evarínya ono varda." He said, speaking all three parts of the traditional elven greeting.

"You suspicion is wise, and well warranted Vidaliah-svit-kona, but I assure you, I am fracai eom du alfa." He said, slowly and deliberately, using the ancient language to swear that he was a friend of the elves.

He worded it carefully, so that it would not bind him should the elves decided he was not a friend of theirs.

Vidaliah seemed a little taken aback, and did not speak, so he continued.

"I understand your mistrust of our race, but neither your daughter nor I would have made it this far if I was anything but trustworthy."

" That may be, but what has brought you here?"

"There was a..." He glanced at Arien. "...disagreement between Jormunder and I, and we thought it prudent to leave before he decided we were an enemy as well."

Vidaliah nodded and began to walk slowly back to her seat. Now was not the time to press the issue of why.

"I cannot take issue with that characterization of Jormunder."

"I would not, of course, impose upon your hospitality without offering something in return."

"Oh, and what is that?" Vidaliah asked, her thin ears pricking slightly.

"The only gift I have left to give" He said, taking to one knee "my service."

Now the elfin matron was watching him with a slight air of suspicion mixed with curiosity. Elves were usually as inscrutable as a polished stone, except when they chose otherwise, but Jarvis could clearly see that he had caught her off guard.

"Your service?"

"We have seen the enemy's intentions with our own eyes, as have you. If it would please you, I would pledge to protect this forest as though it were my own."

Vidaliah regarded him for a moment, as though assessing the merit of his offer. Jarvis maintained unblinking eye contact, a shared stare that seemed to last an eternity. Just as he felt he would tip forward and fall headfirst into her deep brown eyes, a sly smile cracked one side of her face. It was a most unusual expression for an elf, and it deeply unsettled him, though he did not show it externally.

"I accept your service, Jarvis, son of Hadley, but you must swear an oath to me, personally, in the ancient language."

Again, Jarvis heard rather than saw Arien open her mouth to protest, and again he spoke over her.

"I hold the value of my word as highly as any spell, but if it is what you desire, so be it."

Vidaliah placed her palm upon his forhead and he tensed. The hand was cold as ice.

"Repeat after me. Pömnuria sverd er onr, fra thornessa dag eom dauth."

He repeated the phrase, clearly and succinctly, knowing that it meant his freedom until he was released from it. He felt a shiver run up his spine and the silken curtains that disguised a high-set window fluttered as a slight breeze filled the hall, and then died away.

"Rise."

He pushed himself to his feet and stood, still staring unblinkingly at the matron.

"You have proven your loyalty to my satisfaction. Before you got to battle, seek out the blacksmith Haina. She will see to your material needs. Go now."

Feeling both relieved that the meeting was over, and also anxious at what he had promised, Jarvis gave a short bow and turned to leave. He half expected Arien to accompany him, but he did not wait for her when she failed to follow.

His boots made a patter on the polished stone floor as he exited the hall. Vidaliah didn't know what to make of the human. He had deferred to her will immediately, yet it was not the feigned deference a subordinate or lackey would show, but a deeper conviction. And his mind, that strange, swirling, misty mind had remained as inscrutable as ever. Arien still stood there, still as a statue. Vidaliah didn't know where to begin. There had been so much time lost...

"It does my heart good to see you home again."

"I am still trying to determine if this is indeed my home."

"How could you say such a thing? You were born under these very boughs. You were lulled to sleep by the wind in these branches. This is your home, Arien, and I wish I could have had you here, to show you its fullness as the other children of our race learn."

"But you didn't."

The words stung her, and for a moment, her mouth raced ahead of her mind.

"What I did, I did for your sake alone! You cannot even begin to imagine the sacrifice I-!"

Then she caught up with herself and stopped.

"Please, Arien, let us not open old wounds."

"Old? It has only been half a century since you sent me from my supposed 'home'. No, this wound is fresh."

"Then let your stay here be a poultice. I know you have a wandering spirit, my child, and I see that I am no longer able to change your mind, if ever I was, but please, for me sake, take in all that you can whilst you are here. You have a future here. I cannot be matron of this hold forever. You are my only child, and these titles must run along the same line, or else be dispersed forever.."

Arien was smiling. It was not a smile of mirth, nor was it one of sarcasm, but the bemused look of someone who knows something to other does not.

"Then let it pass. I have no desire to take up the banner of your feuds. Besides-" she said, smile widening slightly "-even if I live to be twice as old as you, I doubt I will ever be half as shrewd."

Vidaliah did not know whether this was a compliment or a rebuke, so she took it as both.

"Perhaps not. But you should take care, Arien. You will find that although you do not believe yourself to be royalty, your kinsmen can see you for what you are, and will treat you accordingly. You should conduct yourself in a manner worthy of their respect, and mine."

"Thank you for your sage advice, mother. I will keep it in mind." She replied, and her mother almost laughed. Almost.

"Spoken like a true diplomat."

(This story is going back on active status so stick around, there's PLENTY more to come.)


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